Not Quite Opposites
by Xandoria DuUrden
Summary: A mad Junker and a vigilante cowboy. They have nothing in common...right? NOT shipping them! 2nd of Overwatch stories
1. Joining Blackwatch

Jessie was a normal guy. He grew up on his dad's ranch with his parents, grandparents, 2 older brothers, and little sister, fighting Omnics side by side with them as he grew up. Once Overwatch was created, the Omnic attacks almost stopped completely, and things settled down. When he was 15, his mother died. Jessie ran away, not really knowing why. He joined forces with a really bad crowd but made friends with most of them. They nicknamed him McCree after someone in a western film: he hadn't ever watched a western before, so wasn't sure what movie. One day, the leader, who hated him with a passion, dared him to go on a raid without his pistols. He accepted, and he, the leader, and 2 local kids wanting to join went to rob the bank. He wasn't expecting any trouble: hardly anyone messed with them in fear. He was barely paying any attention when he heard the leader shout, "Don't you know who we are?!" *He's doing that stupid drawl again. Everyone knows you're from New York, not Texas.*

"Gang. Doing my business and leaving. Waited an hour." He looked up at that with a frown, straightening his hat. It was just a normal looking African American with a slight Spanish accent. He had his back turned to them and was wearing all black with a beanie on in the middle of summer. He glanced but continued his business. The leader screamed turning purple in rage,

"Kill him!" *Seriously, you have an inferiority complex, Percy. Someone even slightly questions you, and you say kill them.* One of the hopeful locals went forward to attack the man. He glanced again, this time catching something. He turned on his heel, hitting the local in the throat with a flat hand, choking him. *Oh, shoot.* The local tried to punch him in the gut, but the man dropped down, hitting the hopeful in the gut after accepting the hit, then hitting his temples. The kid dropped. The lady helping him continued trying to help the man, and he continued calmly responding to her questions casually. He seemed disappointed at the kid but looked up at Jessie's group. Percy turned white and grabbed the bag they had gathered before they had started a fight, running off. *Coward, but I won't leave that kid. At least he won't be able to join this hell of a gang.* Jessie straightened himself, looking over the relaxed man and the other local looked at his friend in worry.

"Get him. I got the black guy." *Why'd you say that? You aren't a match for this guy, and you just got him mad.* Jessie got in a solid stance as the locals fled, looking over the man in concern. He just looked annoyed and half-amused. Jessie went for his guns before he remembered that it wasn't at his side. *Shoot!* The man took 3 steps forward. Jessie started to swing, but a fist hit his nose before he could react, wrapping him into a chokehold. *Shooty-shoot!* He tried to drive his elbow into the man's kidney, but Jessie couldn't get a shot in, the grip only tightening. He slowly passed out as he heard,

"H-how much would you like to transfer?"

"One-fifty…" Jessie woke up handcuffed by his legs and arms to a chair in a blank room with a mirror in the wall. *One-way mirror, table with 2 chairs. I'm in some interrogation room. Looks like police or something. Great.* He pulled against the cuffs furiously. They didn't budge. *Of course. Percy gets off scot free and I go to prison. Perfect…Pa'd be furious if he found out what happened to me.* He tugged once again, muttering nonsense under his breath in anger. Someone he didn't know came in. He had blond hair, blue eyes, and looked like he wasn't even tempted to help Jessie in any way.

"Where is the Deadlock gang's base of operations." Jessie didn't respond. *I ain't squealing on anyone, not even Percy.* "If you don't help us, we can't help you, kid." He still didn't reply, waiting until the man began to sit up, putting his face within reach. He jumped upwards in his seat, ramming the soldier in the nose. He jumped backwards, grabbing his nose in pain as it began bleeding. "You little punk!" He cursed, walking out of the room in rage. *I ain't helping some goody-two-shoes who won't bother even trying to help my friends.* Jessie didn't know how long he alternated between a cell and the interrogation room. The soldier was the only one who ever came in. After several visits, Jessie couldn't take the constantly repeated questions, and shouted,

"Shut it! I ain't no squealer!"

"They aren't helping you."

"You ain't either, Yankee." Jessie retorted, falling silent once again as the soldier continued trying to reason with him. He no longer kept silent in interrogation, insulting the soldier constantly. Jessie had almost gone crazy when the people who moved him from cell to interrogation forgot to put his leg shackles on and Jack moved the table out of the way. Jessie wasted no time, kicking the soldier right in the family jewels. He groaned, retreating backwards as he recovered.

"…You-" He punched the prisoner right in the gut, and Jessie felt himself cough up blood. "I want this guy shoved so far down a hole no one can find him!" The man sprinkled curses throughout his sentences as he exited the room, limping slightly. Jessie chuckled lightly. *Mission success.* He winced from the pain, and as his eyes began watering, he saw a familiar face: the man who had taken him in here.

"What the hell do ya'll want?" The man paused briefly before responding.

"…A kid. S***." Jessie felt his face go red. *I'm 17 years old!*

"Yeah?! I bet that old guy out there figured out otherwise when I kicked him in the balls!" The man lost it instantly. Jessie's anger drained away at the bizarre response.

"Jack was kicked in the d*** by a kid!"

"…Pardon, but what?" The guy wasn't even close to calming down, leaning against the wall to try and catch his breath. He took a deep breath, getting serious.

"Kid, you're an idiota. Throwing away your life for criminals?" Jessie said hotly,

"They ain't criminals!" He paused, retracting his statement. "Well, they are, but that's not all they are! I ain't squealing, especially to a cop."

"Tell us where the base is." The man's humor had disappeared, replaced by a cold, even stare.

"So ya'll can kill them? No way!" Jessie stated in defiance. The man corrected coolly,

"We don't kill unless we need to. Way I see it, you've got two choices. Say nothing and waste the rest of your life in a cell, or work for me, and make a difference." *He wants some hero, not me.*

"I ain't a hero." The man replied,

"There aren't heroes: there's people who talk about the wrong in the world, and there's people who f****** do something about it." Jessie was running out of stalling methods: he couldn't insult someone with reasoning so much like his own.

"The hell do you care? Your buddy probably busted my gut!"

"I don't: you do. One-time offer, cowboy." He leaned back, thinking as pain jabbed him in the gut. *I'd probably do some good here, and I won't get a chance like this again.*

"Why the hell not? Got nothing better to do." The man laughed.

"What's your name, cowboy?" *I don't trust him enough to tell him my real name.*

"Jessie McCree. Yours?"

"Boss. Let's get training."

"Your name ain't actually boss, is it?" He didn't answer. "…Right. Deadlock's got a hangout down on Route 66. Ain't too easy to find, and it's a bottleneck." 'Boss's phone rang, but he didn't answer it, letting it ring. They entered a seemingly empty room with a viewing room to the upper left, and Jessie's new boss said as he left,

"Level 2."


	2. Switzerland Explosion

Junkrat was in Switzerland. His employers had purposely hired him out of Australia to decode what happened in some explosion at some fancy organization. With a reward of almost 2 million, he decided why not? As he sifted through the wreckage, he saw body parts, corpses, and half-burned carcasses. *Wow. I thought I was crazy.* He thought quietly, picking up a small piece of a bomb where he had expected it to be: load bearing wall. *Octanitrocubane? The amount used here could've leveled the entire city. If they had access to this much, why would they…hold on, they used more than this?!* He jumped over the rubble easily, more comfortable among ruins than anywhere else. He found another 2 pieces. *Okay, this wouldn't have caused this much damage contained like this…there was a 4th container, but where…they didn't!* He pulled out the blueprints, squinting as he scanned over them. *…Furnace, right there…* He raced over to the remains of the central heating, frowning as he poked around. he found yet another piece, more mutilated that the others and almost unnoticeable other than a slightly salty burning smell. "The lunatic could've killed himself without blowing up the building if he jarred it just a little bit too much! What was he thinking? Answer: he wasn't thinking at all.* Junkrat frowned as he peered closer at the least mangled bomb. *That's…mercury?! What the hell?* He frowned, leaning back as he rubbed him half-burned skull, completely shocked at the evidence in front of him.

"Are we live?"

"Not yet, miss. There he is."

"Mr. Fawkes! Could we have a few minutes of your time?" Junkrat frowned, looking at the strange looking woman with a man with a black bug on his shoulder.

"…What the hell is that?" He questioned, pointing at the bug.

"…Um, a camera?" *What's a camera?*

"Look, I'm busy. Ask someone else." He muttered, looking over the wreckage. *Who in any state of mind would poison land on purpose? It's bad enough in Australia.*

"Angela's over there, let's go!" The reporter stated. Junkrat moved along with them, needing to see the center of the building to make sure his thoughts were correct.

"Broadcastings are coming in!" The reporter quickly straightened her hair and quietly counted down.

"We are live at the Switzerland Overwatch Headquarters, the main headquarters of the peacekeeping organization. 79 people are known to have been caught in the blast thus far, including Commander Jack Morrison, leader of Overwatch, 13 children-" Junkrat growled. *I hope the maniac got caught in his own blasts.* "-and Commander Gabriel Reyes, second in command. The UN is calling an immediate investigation as to the cause of the explosion, though preliminary tests suggest an internal conflict between Gabriel Reyes and Jack Morrison is the culprit. We're going live on the scene now with Dr. Angela Ziegler, the lead medical doctor of Overwatch." *Unless one of those tossers were billionaires or had access to the most unstable explosive in the world, that's ridiculous.* He heard someone shout,

"Specialist Erikson is deceased!" *Who cares?* Junkrat continued poking around, and was surprised to find a perfectly intact thing among the rubble. *How did this thing survive when nothing else did?*

"Mr. Fawkes, have you found the cause?" Called his UN employer from the side, as Junkrat bit into the thing in his hand. "Mr. Fawkes, why are you biting a hard drive?" *A what?*

"It was over there-" He gestured wildly in the general direct. "Near the epicenter of the largest explosion. I don't got any clue how it survived." The man snatched the device from Junkrat.

"Thank you for finding possible evidence."

"Do I get a bonus?"

"No."

"Well, anyways, what happened is the guy put 3 bombs at these points-" Junkrat pointed exactly where they had been. "And then one in the furnace. He had a minute to get out before the furnace one detonated, followed by the others." The reporter was recording the Junker as he explained what happened, getting more frustrated the more he thought about it. "Any bomber worth his salt knows that the explosive material used, Octanitrocubane, is ridiculously expensive, hard to obtain, and too unstable to be used properly, not to mention is the most explosive material known. A total of 4 one-ounce containers would have done the job just fine with fewer casualties and more actual damage, but no. The lunatic used 12 ounces of Octanitrocubane, in addition to 4 half-ounce containers of mercury, rendering the land around the base utterly useless. It was a step beyond what any terrorist I know would do. He put 4 separate bombs composed of 3 ounces of the explosive with one half-ounce of mercury inside the building by storing them temporarily INSIDE THE VENTILATION SYSTEMS! He then took 3 of them, setting them on the load bearing walls. That would've taken care of the entire building, no problems. But he wasn't done, oh, no. He then put an additional one inside the furnace. He had one minute to escape."

"So this was done by a professional?" the Un man asked in confusion. Junkrat blinked in surprise.

"What? Whoever it was used Octanitrocubane!" He emphasized, completely shocked someone didn't understand what that meant.

"This was done by a professional demolitions expert. Thank you, Mr. Fawkes." He shouted angrily, waving around an unarmed detonator in frustration.

"Oi! Whoever did this was a complete-" The small man was grabbed by several security officers and pulled off-site. He cursed the entire way, struggling against the guards. They tossed him into a cargo plane.

"Thank you for your services."

"Hold on, what about my pay?!"

"What pay?" They asked as they sealed the door. He swallowed the urge to panic as the walls closed in around him. Instead, he shouted angrily,

"I HATE SUITS!" He silently sat in the back until he heard over the intercom,

"Mr. Fawkes, the drop point is 10 minutes ahead."

"Right, right." He slipped on a parachute, not his first time getting picked up by boat and dropped off by airplane. He waited until the hold started opening, then jumped out right onto a bare plain, where a bulky man was waiting.

"Rat, where's the cash?"

"They stabbed me in the back. I got nothing." He grumbled, yanking off the parachute in anger.

"I need that!"

"Cash ain't worth anything here anyways: I'm sure if we scrap enough junk we can trade it for more than 2 million in paper." He muttered, rubbing his metal arm roughly as pain shot through it. "Let's head to Junkertown, James: me arm's getting phantom pains again, and we got enough scrap to get some meds and materials."


	3. On the Run

Jessie scrambled along the shadows, trying to stay off radar as the police were looking for anyone with Blackwatch affiliations. How they got that info, he had no idea: it was never put on computer record unedited, and there were no paper or decoded ones. Even considering he had stepped away from the entire thing almost 2 years ago, he wasn't stupid, and knew he had been one of the best operatives of Blackwatch along with Genji, but the green cyborg ninja wasn't the one with the picture on every wanted billboard in the world. He ducked underneath a window just as he heard, "Call the cops, and we'll kill him. Understand?"

"P-perfectly. Please don't hurt my son!" McCree paused, unable to continue on. He peered through the window to find a crying woman and man, holding the phone in desperation.

"We have to call them."

"You heard him! If we do, they'll hurt Richie!" Jessie shook his head, planning on moving forward. *You can't help. You've got to keep your head down and not cause a scene…Shoot.* He tapped on the window gently. The two jumped, looking at him. "Who are you?!"

"Would ya'll let me in?" The man hesitantly opened the window, extremely suspicious of the cowboy who was on his fire escape. "Howdy. I couldn't help but overhear about ya'lls son. Do ya'll need some help?"

"W-we can't have the police help us!"

"I ain't a cop." Jessie dismissed with a smile.

"…How do we know you're not working with them?"

"How old is ya'lls kid?"

"N-nine?"

"I've only kidnapped people 23 and above."

"I-is that supposed to make us more comfortable?!" Both of them cried in horror. Jessie took off his hat, dead serious.

"I won't hurt ya'lls son, or let God strike me dead here." Jessie waited, then replaced his hat. "Phone's have recordings now. Ya'll mind?"

"G-go ahead…" They stuttered, stunned by his nerve. He calmly pressed the replay button. The man worked up the courage to ask, "W-what are you doing?"

"Quiet, now…train…ice cream truck…" Jessie mouthed as he listened to the background. "Alright. ya'll will have Richie back in 3 hours, tops."

"H-how-"

"I know this town. See ya'll soon." Jessie ducked out of the window he came in through, knowing exactly where he was going. *Only one place in this town has an ice cream route and a train track close enough to hear that plainly.* He went right to the pay phone, looking around calmly. *If I were a kidnapper, I'd put my hostage nearby the phone, so if they call back or if I need to call again, I can make fast contact.* He looked around the place for likely hideouts for lowlifes. *Bingo.* He walked right up to the door of a ratty hotel room, and knocked.

"Who the hell is that?"

"I don't know. Hide the brat: I'll take care of this guy." Jessie waited calmly in front of the door as it opened. "Who the hell-" He decked the kidnapper in the face with his metal arm, breaking the man's nose and wrapping him in a choke hold.

"Howdy. I'm here to pick up my friend's kid from grade school?" The other kidnapper held a gun up to a blindfolded kid.

"Release him!"

"Now, can't we settle this civilly?"

"Let him go, or I shoot!" McCree sighed, letting the man go. The man raised his gun, and Jessie examined where they were related to the kid: both were behind the little boy. "You should've let the kid die, because now-" Jessie drew his gun, firing 2 shots right into the men's skulls calmly.

"I really wanted to just settle it civilly." The boy was hyperventilating in horror. McCree knelt in front of him. "It's okay. I'm a friend of your parents. They sent me to get you."

"W-who are you? W-where are we?" Jessie chuckled lightly, standing up. The boy reached up to take off the blindfold, but McCree stopped him.

"I'd rather you didn't, kid." He looked over the blood-stained walls in mild discomfort. "It's a bit messy in here. Reminds me of my room." The boy lightly chuckled. "I'm gonna pick you up, okay? We've got to hurry."

"O-okay." McCree gently sent him on his shoulder.

"Did you get hurt, kid?"

"N-no. Just really scared."

"Being scared is never fun, huh?" The boy gripped Jessie's beginning of a beard firmly, and Jessie tried not to let him know it hurt.

"Sometimes it is, like Halloween…and haunted houses."

"Never liked those much, but what was your favorite one?"

"Um, last year they had a day of the dead haunted house. It was neat."

"Sounds it." McCree swiftly got to the boy's house as they talked calmly. He was happy that when they got to his home, he was perfectly fine. "Now, Richie, me and your folks have to have a bit of a talk, alright?"

"Okay. Can I take off the blindfold, though?"

"Once you get in your room, sure." The boy ran into his room, and Jessie sighed in relief.

"Thank you so much, sir. How can we ever thank you?"

"Don't tell anyone I was here. It'll be bad for your family and me."

"B-but you saved our son!" Jessie waved his hands in dismissal.

"I'm no saint. Don't tell anyone about me being here, and we're even, okay?" the parents nodded in confusion, and Jessie climbed out the window once again. "Let's hope ya'll don't meet me again." Jessie disappeared, cursing himself for stopping as the police were more active then ever as the sun began to rise. *You can't stop to help everyone who needs it. You can recover from it now, but who knows about next time?* He smiled as he thought about the little boy's laugh. *But maybe it's worth having to run a little farther a little faster.* Sirens rang through the air, and Jessie flinched as he heard them coming after him. *Shoot! But not when they're going to shoot at me! Let's hope those races with Genji paid off!*


	4. The Treasure

Junkrat grumbled as he sifted through all the garbage outside of Junkertown. *Garbage, garbage…not worth anything…Ooo…* He peered at the shiny object. *Some kind of container, maybe of something valuable…* He dove headfirst into the pile of old car parts, Omnic parts, and half-rotted clothes. He yanked the thing out, prying it open with his metal hand with ease. *What the hell are these?* He asked mentally, picking the small, flat object out in curiosity. *Hold on…these are Pokémon cards, I think…yeah. Dusty was talking about them earlier this month. Something about being rare and collectible? I'll just hide these somewhere until I can find a place to sell them.* He tucked the container under his arm, then sat up. Something smelled different. *That's not oil: that's blood.* He followed the scent down the path to a girl getting punched repeatedly in the face.

"I told you not to come back without scrap!" Junkrat frowned at the sight but didn't respond immediately. When the man pulled out a pair of pliers and the girl started to try to run, he jumped on top of the man, hitting him repeatedly in the nose.

"Drop dead, tosser!" He didn't stop decking the man until he stopped moving. He then continued to hit the man repeatedly until the skull turned to mush. "Oh. He's dead. Oi! You okay?" He called to the terrified girl. She nodded quickly.

"T-thank you for saving me." Junkrat turned red.

"I didn't save you! Um…I…" he looked around for an excuse to have beaten a man to death. "I…needed you to get that!" He pointed to something shiny in a pile, hoping it was valuable. The girl's face fell.

"Oh. Okay." She climbed over to the pile, diving down into it with ease. She came out with a case of old Oxygen tanks. Junkrat's eyes widened. *Those go for a fortune! I could actually get Dusty and James their money back…but she really needs new clothes and a weapon from Junkertown…* "Here you go, mister."

"Those are worthless. You can have them. Let's go." He looked away, walking towards town.

"W-where are we going?"

"To town. Ain't you got a family?"

"…No." Junkrat looked at the ground.

"You ain't my problem. I'm dropping you in Junkertown. Got it?!" He said harshly, looking at her intently.

"O-okay!" She stuttered. The trip was fairly quiet. "…Mister?"

"What?"

"Back there, where you found me? It has a bunch of old scrap. You might want it later." Junkrat smiled, then caught himself.

"I don't need any help, tosser…" He muttered half-heartedly. They got to town faster than either of them wanted. The girl left without another word, avoiding eye-contact with the mad Junker. He watched her disappear from the corner of his eye. *I need a drink.*

"Rat, what are you doing here? I thought you were scrapping again." James asked suspiciously.

"Where's Dusty? I think I got something worth something!"

"Down at a watering hole somewhere." Junkrat chuckled madly: there was only one bar that was worth anything in all of Australia. He walked off that way and saw a man who was somehow skinnier than him get thrown out of the bar. *Good: he's drunk. He gets forgetful and talkative when he's drunk.*

"Oi, Dusty!" The man looked up wobbly.

"Rat!" They slammed metal arms together, and Dusty asked, "So wotz up?"

"You know what these are worth?" Junkrat showed the container full of Pokemon cards.

"No way! How'd you get those? A suitcase full of first edition and Illustrator! Someone must've been collecting them a long time before the Crisis!"

"Yeah, mate, that's great. How much is it worth?" Junkrat asked bluntly.

"Eh, I'd say 80 million at min, 100 million at max." Junkrat almost choked on air.

"For a bunch of cards?! What, are they made of gold?!"

"I mean, maybe. I don't know why things are worth what they're worth: I just know they are." Dusty shrugged. "Let's drink!"

"Alright, tosser: you're paying!"

"Alright!" The drunk man cheered. Junkrat paused as Dusty entered the building, then kissed the suitcase. *My ticket to being rich! Now what do I do to keep it mine?* He smiled, then flung the suitcase over the side. *That's towards the barren lands: No one but me, Dusty, and James are crazy enough to scrap over there! I'll find it again later: first I celebrate it!* He drank only one glass of the 'whiskey', almost puking the nasty stuff out, then told everyone and everything in the bar about him finding the greatest treasure in Australia. He never said what it was or what it looked like, but at least 70 people heard him cheering from inside. He wasn't sure exactly who heard him, but he didn't care: he felt invincible. He continued running his mouth like normal: he'd never had something to brag about before. After a day at the bar with his now saturated in alcohol friend, he went off to find the suitcase again. He found it with relative ease, but he smelled something different. *That's blood again.* He followed the smell to find the same girl being pummeled, this time by someone different.

"I told you not to return without scrap!" Junkrat paused. That's the exact thing that was said earlier. He walked up cautiously, on high alert. The new man pulled out a pair of pliers, and the girl went to run. Junkrat stopped her, and her eyes widened in horror.

"…You were faking it."

"W-well, I have to get money somehow! I'm no scrapper!" Junkrat grabbed her by the hair, tossing her to the man, secretly tossing a bomb with her.

"Do what you want. I don't like people manipulating me." Junkrat began walking away when the man drew a gun on him.

"Give us the suitcase, or I'll blow your brains out."

"I'll just leave that there, then." Was all Junkrat said, turning to face the man with a mad grin. He detonated it right next to the man and girl. He went flying as he cackled madly.


	5. Wanted

McCree was still running. It had been almost a year since Overwatch was completely shut down by the Petras Act. He couldn't go home: they thought he was dead. He couldn't go to Reyes or Morrison: they were dead, as was Ana. Everyone he respected and knew either thought he was dead or was dead themselves. He tried not to, but he couldn't stop himself from stopping to help someone else out of a jam, usually getting himself blamed for it in one way or another. There were 2 kidnappings, a car hijacking, and 7 robberies he got blamed for, and at least 27 murders he was actually responsible for. It was exhausting to run all the time, but he didn't have a choice. Angela was somewhere in Switzerland, and Jessie had managed to track Genji up to somewhere in the Himalia Mountains, but lost him 6 months ago. He himself was lost in New Mexico on the side of a highway. He sighed as he took a short break from walking, remaining standing. He pulled out a cigar, lighting it. *One left, and I ran out of booze a day ago…There has to be a town somewhere around here.* He walked towards a highway sign, looking at it as the sun slowly disappeared. *10 miles that way to a city. Never heard of it, so maybe they've never heard of me. Probably not that way with my luck, but it never hurts to be hopeful.* He started walking, enjoying the cigar. He'd picked up the habits from one of his old teammates. They had been killed by someone the News was calling a 'wraith'. Whoever it was hated Overwatch a lot: over 75 kills, and still counting. Jessie felt a twinge of pain but shook it off. He had enough to worry about without thinking about everyone who had died. He was still 5 miles away from the town when he had to stop to sleep. He pulled his hat down over his eyes, laying on the ground without starting a fire. His stomach growled, but he ignored it. *I'll get something to eat at town.* He slowly fell asleep.

"Take your birthday present, Katie."

"I said I'd never wear one of those ridiculous things…Hold on to it…I'll wear it when we meet again…"

"…What do ya'll want instead, teach?"

"M…make it quick, cowboy…make it quick." Jessie shot up in a cold sweat, nearly headbutting an adult scavenging around. Instead, he decked him.

"Shoot! You okay?" The man sat up woozily, dazed. Jessie tapped his cheek, and his eyes slowly focused. He jumped up, suddenly afraid.

"Ah! I was just…" He trailed off nervously.

"Stealing, I know. Don't worry about it. Are you okay?"

"…Yes?" He questioned, confused. "…I was stealing from you. what do you mean don't worry about it?"

"I don't have anything of value." Jessie shrugged. "So…introductions. I'm Jessie."

"…I stole from you, and you punch me in the face."

"If that don't put us on first name basis, I don't know what will." The man laughed, sitting down.

"I'm Jones."

"Well, what are ya'll doing 5 miles from town, Indiana?" Jones frowned.

"My name isn't Indiana."

"Never mind that, Jones. You should answer my question."

"I'm trying to get to town: my mom needs medicine."

"Well, I'll walk with you: ya'll could use some yourself with that punch." He frowned in confusion.

"I only have enough money for my mom."

"Don't worry about it." Jessie waved the man off, standing up.

"And you said you don't have anything of value."

"I don't: I just got my charms…and the ability to do work." Jessie winked.

"So do I, but her medicine is very expensive."

"How expensive?"

"…1000 dollars."

"Shoot. What's wrong with her?"

"She has lung cancer, but none of the hospitals will help her pay for the medicine."

"Tell you what: If ya'll let me stay at ya'lls house for a while-nothing fancy, just a room-and don't tell anyone, I'll help ya'll out, okay?" *I need a rest, anyways.* The man paused.

"Why?"

"Dunno. I'm just feel like being nice." Jessie took the man to a restaurant first. "Excuse me, but can I have 2 sandwiches? I don't have any money, but I'll help out for an hour." The man at the register paused in thought.

"Let me get the manager." The manager looked at Jessie.

"What can I help you with?"

"I was wondering if I could have 2 sandwiches for an hour of work." Jessie repeated casually. The woman paused a few seconds, then said firmly.

"…That's against policy. Please leave, sirs."

"Alright. Thank ya'll kindly for ya'lls time." They went to the pharmacy next. The nurse asked politely,

"How can I help, sirs?" Jessie asked,

"This man needs some meds for his mom." The man stated the medicine his mother needed, and Jessie added, "I don't have any money, but I'd be willing to help out for a few hours to help him pay."

"Um…let me ask the manager if that's allowed." The man asked, confused. H disappeared for a while, then a woman came up.

"I can't technically do this but based on how much trouble Jones has been having lately paying for the medicine, I'll help. If you two can help unload the truck and reshelf things for 8 hours, I'll drop the cost to 300." Jessie smiled warmly.

"I'll happily oblige, ma'am." He set to work calmly. The 8 hours passed slowly, Jessie feeling like he was starving at the end of it. The man looked ecstatic as they continued working.

"I'll make you a home-cooked meal when we get home, Jessie."

"Thanks, but ya'll don't need to do that." Jessie dismissed.

"You just let me save 700 dollars so I finally have a head start saving some money for mom's treatments: I want to." Jessie smiled gladly.

"Thanks, partner." They headed home. Jessie wanted to meet the mother, but the man said firmly,

"She would never let you stay, no matter what. She's very suspicious of people."

"That's smart on her part, even if I won't hurt ya'll." Jessie enjoyed the meal of spaghetti, then the man showed him to a small bedroom.

"Goodnight, Jessie."

"Night, Jones." Jessie slept lightly and was quickly awoken by a very angry Jones.

"You didn't tell me you were wanted."

"Jones, I-"

"I already called the police. I'm giving you a head start as a thank you, but I hope they catch you." Jessie nodded, saddened.

"Thanks. I hope your mom gets better." He jumped through the window, hitting the ground quietly and starting to run again.


	6. Junker Pirate Princess

Junkrat was scrapping with James when he smelled something odd. *That doesn't smell right.* He turned to ask James about it when he noticed his blowing-up buddy was absent. He paused, blinking a few times. *That's weird. He doesn't usually leave me alone because he's always thinking I'm going to jib him.* Junkrat continued forward until he heard a click. He jumped as far and as hard as he could to the right, toward a pile of scrap. A loud explosion followed him, blowing him into the junkpile. He felt his leg catch most of the heat, almost screaming in pain. He kept quiet, not wanting any other Junkers around to know he was injured. *James Williams, you lying ************. I thought you had changed, you b******!* Junkrat peered down at his leg, and almost puked. His leg was practically mush. *Can't let anyone know I got hurt, or I'll really be dead.* He tore off the tattered remains of his clothes, fashioning the shapeless lump into a rough leg, fishing out an old shoe from the pile he was in and shoving it out the still bleeding mess. *I just need to find a new pair of pants…* He pulled himself off of the pile, shaking off the quiet shock as he went into survival mode. He found an old building, roof half-caved in and walls riddled with bullets. He hopped inside, completely nude other than his bomb harness. He scrambled around before he found a pile of wood against a wall. He shoved his hand in the pile, feeling around for a pair of pants. He didn't find pants, but he did find a pair of torn shorts. He shrugged, throwing those on. He almost tore them right back off. *Who can wear pants that feel like sandpaper?!* He fished around for another pair, and after 2 more pairs of torn pants being tried on and discarded, he found a pair of green shorts with what seemed like hundreds of small tears and rips in them that he could actually handle the texture. *Perfect!* He hobbled out to town, back to his usual cheerfulness. A week passed, and he got a new buddy. He was massive, and had some kind of mask on, but he had saved Junkrat's skin from the Queen's goons, so Junkrat guessed he was okay, if a little talkative. He decided to call him Roadhog after all the stories about another massive guy who protected some part of the outback. Another week passed, and his leg kept hurting more and more, no matter what he did to stop the pain. They were heading off to the coast to see if there was any worthwhile scrap over there when the man grabbed Junkrat's metal arm, halting his movements. "Oi, what?!"

"…You're limping."

"It's fine." Junkrat shrugged, going to move onwards.

"Show me."

"Let go, tosser! We're on a job!" Roadhog didn't release him, watching Junkrat in expectation. "Fine, fine! It just got blown up a bit." Junkrat was released, and he unwrapped the leg. Instead of the bright red, fleshy rod he had last seen, it had green and black goo mixed in this time. It smelled horrible. *Oh. it was lead styphnate. James, I don't even have enough words to describe you.* "It's gotten a little worse, but it's fine." He began to replace the wrappings when the man grabbed his hand.

"…It's infected."

"I know that, but there ain't no doctors around here, and I can't get into Junkertown after that stunt you pulled, punching her goons in the face!" The man grabbed him by the throat.

"You want to try that again?"

"I-I mean, the blokes WE punched in the face." Roadhog dropped him.

"We need to get rid of it." Junkrat froze, very unwelcome memories rising up. He waved them away physically, shouting,

"It's fine! It don't need to be amputated!"

"It's going to poison you slowly and kill you."

"The blood loss itself'll do that!" Junkrat stated, beginning to hobble away. the man grabbed him again.

"I won't let you die: I want my cut." Junkrat began to protest again, but slumped, going limp.

"Fine, tosser. Just lob it off." Roadhog paused, dropping Junkrat.

"…You don't have painkillers."

"Never work right, anyways." He shrugged, sitting down casually, as if cutting off a limb was completely normal, pulling out a bomb.

"You can't make any noise, Rat." Junkrat smiled madly, sticking the bomb in his mouth and giving the mammoth a thumbs up. Roadhog started a fire, and Junkrat watched in confusion. *That'll give away where we are. What's he doing that for?*

"Heat will limit blood flow and will keep it sterile." Junkrat blinked in confusion. "…Clean." *Oh.* "It won't come off in one hit." Junkrat nodded in understanding, looking at his metal arm in painful memory. As the amputation began, he distanced himself, thinking about his first experience with the event as pain shot through his leg. He was on a junking trip with Dusty, and a wall of junk had shifted due to some kind of earthquake. His arm had gotten stuck. Dusty left him for 16 hours to try and get something to loosen his arm. He was alone in a small area, pinned down for almost an entire day. He couldn't sleep in terror that the wall would shift again. When Dusty returned empty-handed, Junkrat just told him to cut it off. It was easier then since Dusty always carried all sorts of things, including painkillers, but it was still painful. Suddenly, a searing agony shot up his nerves, and he squirmed, still not making a sound for fear the bomb would explode. *That won't do, for me to be taken out by my own bomb!* Junkrat closed his eyes, pain giving him a headache. "…Done." Junkrat sat up instantly, looking at his new stump in amazement.

"Oi, how am I going to walk? I don't got two legs." Roadhog paused, then picked Junkrat up. "Oh, am I a princess?!" Roadhog snorted in laughter at Junkrat's honest question.

"More like a frog. You're going to get a peg leg."

"Like a pirate?!" Junkrat asked in excitement.

"Like an amputee."

"Same thing, mate! That's awesome!" Junkrat chattered incessantly as they travelled to a large building that was missing doors, had several broken windows, and was half-destroyed. "What's this place?"

"…It used to be a hospital. The legs should be over here. There." Junkrat was set down rather harshly, Roadhog sounding extremely annoyed. Junkrat chose a plain wooden one, then paused. *That won't work with my bombs.* He then chose a series of metal ones.

"Give me 10 minutes, Roadie." He bit, bent, and punched them into a crude, orange-silver, peg-leg shape. "There! I'm a Junker pirate princess!"

"…You're an idiot."


	7. Haunted

Jessie had managed to get back to Oklahoma but didn't go to see his family: it would be too weird. He had been considered dead for almost 17 years. It was his 32nd birthday today. He didn't really care: what was another year on the run? He paused outside a bar, pulling out his wallet. With the random amounts of jobs he'd been able to do, and the limited money he'd been able to save, he had just enough for a glass of good whiskey, or 2 glasses of cheap whiskey and a sandwich. He sighed, stepping into the bar calmly. It went quiet for a little while, but it grew back to normal levels. "Glass of whiskey, thank you kindly." The bartender asked, leaning against the counter casually,

"Which kind: urine or Kansas?"

"Urine, partner." Jessie chuckled, getting a glass in response.

"I haven't seen you around here before."

"I haven't been around here before. You got any food?"

"Club sandwich and pretzels." The bartender shrugged.

"Sandwich, thank you kindly." Jessie smiled lightly, swirling the alcohol with a frown. *Happy birthday to me…* The man set the sandwich in front of Jessie. "Thanks." He ate it without a word, exhausted. After 30 minutes of nursing on the whiskey, the bartender set a clear drink in front of Jessie. "I think you got the wrong person: I don't drink tequila."

"The woman over there paid me 3 times the regular amount to give this to you." He gestured casually. Jessie glanced. The woman was wearing a bright purple trench coat, and her hair had pink highlights.

"She don't stick out at all." The bartender nodded quietly, walking away. The woman approached causally, as if she knew Jessie closely.

"Hola, amiga."

"I have long hair: I ain't a woman. Howdy." Jessie corrected, drinking quietly, tequila untouched.

"So you do know Spanish."

"Do I know you?"

"Not yet, McCree." Jessie didn't reply. *This is not something I want to happen today.* "I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday."

"How'd you-" Jessie turned to look at the woman, but she was gone. Where she had been sitting had a box on it. He looked at the bartender, but he was serving someone else. *How'd she know it was my birthday?* He hesitantly opened the box to find a sewing kit with only red thread and a grey sweater. *That's impossible…* He jumped up, leaving exact change on the counter as he raced out of the bar, eyes wide. *He's alive…how is he alive?* The woman was gone, not a single sign she had ever been there. Jessie looked down at the sweater in his hand. It had been squeezed out of shape, but he held it up to his chest. It was perfectly shaped to fit him, loose enough to be comfortable but tight enough not to be in the way. *The exact size…how did he survive? How did he…he caused it.* Jessie gripped the sweater harshly. *That backstabbing traitor killed them all. He's the one whose been hunting everyone down…* Jessie pulled his hat down, and started walking away, rage fueling him onwards. He stopped half-way out of town. *What am I doing? I can't take him out alone: I had a bare of a time just getting him to fall down. If I go after him, I'm dead. If I don't, others are dead. Who else is there? He's gotten all of my old teammates, most of the Overwatch members, too. Face it: I'm all that's left of Blackwatch based on what I know, and based on what just happened, he ain't going to attack me.* Jessie looked at the sweater again, anger sweltering. He tossed it in the garbage, walking back to the bar.

"Partner, I don't have much money, but if I work for you, can I start a tab?"

"…Sure. You seem trust-worthy: just don't drink all the whiskey."

"Thanks. Good Kansas Whiskey, thank you kindly."

Jessie woke up as the sun began to rise, surprised to see he still had all his equipment after the excessive drinking he had done last night. He sat up and rubbed the hangover at bay. The bartender came into the back, looking concerned and impressed.

"You…drank more than I thought anyone could. You passed out at about 2 in the morning, and I brought you back here. Need some Aspirin or something to help with the headache?"

"Nah. I'd rather get to work." Jessie shook off the stiffness, setting to work stocking the shelves and cleaning everything he could find, trying to distract himself from the growing ache of knowing the truth.

"Honestly, there's not much to do in the mornings. Do you have a bartending license?"

"No: most I can do is stock, clean, and pick some things up for you."

"Well, that'll save me some time. Do you have a place to stay?"

"Nah. I usually set up a camp outside of the town." *It's better than implicating someone else in aiding and abetting a criminal.*

"…Well, you keep doing that: I don't have a room to spare."

"That's fine. Thanks for letting me do this."

"No problem. I'm only confused: if you're a traveler, why don't you have any money?"

"Private matter. Don't worry about it." Jessie dismissed casually.

"Well, can I have your name, then?"

"Jessie." The man paused.

"…You're one of them Overwatch people. I've seen your poster before." Jessie winced. "Relax. I never had any issues with Overwatch: you can work here as long as you'd like, but if I get searched or anything, I'm saying I didn't know about you. I'm Pete."

"…Thanks, Peter Pan. That means a lot to me." The man laughed at Jessie joke, then got serious.

"Now I need you to go to the store and pick up some lemons and ice. Jessica will have it ready. Just cause I'm helping you doesn't mean it's free." Jessie chuckled lightly, taking the wad of cash and stuffing it in his pocket as he headed out the door with a tip of his hat.

"Nothing ever is." He was able to work there for 2 weeks before the police found him, then he was back on the run. *Nothing ever is free, especially freedom, ironically enough.*


	8. Riding the Waves

Junkrat was fleeing the Queen's men with Roadhog along the coast when he heard shouts from someone. "Oi, hold on." He disappeared into the scrap where Roadhog couldn't follow, following the shouts to a woman about his age waving a large piece of brush at a pack of coyotes. He thought briefly, then tossed a few explosives, detonating them. The woman was surprised as coyotes ran off, looking terrified. "Oi, are you alright?"

"Y-you saved me! Thanks, mate! What's your name?!" She shouted excitedly.

"Um…" Junkrat frowned. What was his actual name? "…Jamison? Yeah, Jamison, but everyone calls me Junkrat. Bye!"

"Bye, Jamie!" *Whose Jamie?* He caught back up with Roadhog, who grabbed him by the head.

"I can't protect you if I can't find you!" Junkrat shouted as the man began to squeeze

"Too hard, too hard!" He let him go. "Sorry, mate…" Gunfire started, and Junkrat jumped. "Blimey! Let's go!" Roadhog managed to keep up with the fast man by grabbing him occasionally to slow him down, but Junkrat tried to keep pace with him. They stopped for a break when the hunters stopped for lunch, just to catch their breaths. They kept going after a 5 minute break. After an hour of more running, Roadhog grabbed Junkrat again. "Oi, I was right beside you!" He pointed to a building. "Oh, that'll work." They went inside, Junkrat peering out the broken window to see if the Queen's men would find them. The hunters went right by them. "Whew…" To Junkrat's surprise, the woman from the coyotes walked up.

"Jamie?! Where'd you go?" Junkrat poked his head out,

"Quiet! You'll give us away!" Roadhog groaned in annoyance. "And whose Jamie?!"

"You are, silly! You saved me, so I'm your girlfriend now!"

"…My what?" He asked in confusion. Roadhog looked just as confused.

"We're going on a date tomorrow! Don't be late!" Junkrat watched in amazement as the woman skipped away.

"…What in tarnation is a girlfriend? And a date?" He asked to no one in particular.

"Do you know her?" Roadhog asked.

"I saved her from some coyotes earlier today."

"…She's not your girlfriend, and you're not going on a date with her."

"She seems to think otherwise." Junkrat objected.

"…We have to go." Roadhog grabbed Junkrat and went running off again. A woman hopped out with a gun drawn.

"Surrender now, and the Queen might let you-erk!" Roadhog flung her to the side, not seeming to care where she landed. They stopped again as the sun fell. They fell asleep quickly, and Junkrat woke up as he heard rustling just as the sun began rising.

"Oi! Who's there?!"

"It's me, Jamie!" The woman called, holding a bag.

"…Okay…what do you want?"

"It's our first day anniversary! I got you a present."

"…What's your name?" Junkrat asked bluntly, completely confused as the woman handed him the canvass bag.

"My name is Matilda, mate. Happy anniversary, Jamie!" She skipped away, and Junkrat opened the bag, still processing.

"Oh! ROADIE!" He dropped it in horror. Roadhog was up in a second, and Junkrat pointed to it, face warped in disgust. Roadhog calmly pulled out the head of the woman who had drawn a gun on them, and a note.

"…'This is what people will get for flirting with you. Love, Matilda.'" Junkrat looked at the large man in horror.

"…We need to get out of Australia. Now." Roadhog nodded in agreement. "…Let's take a boat."

"…" Junkrat frowned, looking at the sun.

"Actually, do you think if we got enough explosives, we could blow our way to other continents?" Roadhog laughed.

"No. Let's get a ship." Junkrat followed the large man, chattering incessantly as he tried to ignore the feeling of being followed and the fear of what Matilda would be willing to do for something he didn't even understand. They got a boat in the middle of the day, and Roadhog piled in several containers of food and a few oxygen tanks.

"What's all that for?"

"…" *Oh. It's a really long trip.*

"Oh, yeah. I forgot." Roadhog looked more confused than upset, climbing into the ship first. Junkrat pushed the boat off the beach, hopping in easily. Junkrat was calm, watching the water warily as they sailed off towards a different world. Night had almost fallen when Roadhog finally interrupted Junkrat's talking.

"…Have you done this before?"

"Yeah! 3 times, though usually some suits come to pick me up instead of me going on my own with another Aussie."

"…I'm not Australian." Junkrat paused.

"You're not?! Where are you from?"

"…New Zealand."

"Where's that?"

"It's off Australia's coast. I moved to Australia 43 years ago." Junkrat counted on his fingers, doing some quick math.

"…That was before the explosion."

"…It was before the Crisis."

"What was Australia like before?"

"…Very different." Junkrat frowned, looking up at the sky.

"I wonder what things would've been like. If it'd never happened, I mean."

"…Which part of it?" Roadhog asked.

"The nuclear place exploding. What else would I mean?" Roadhog looked down.

"…Does it matter?"

"Not really, but still…How'd you know what she said?"

"…What are you talking about?"

"What that Sheila said. You were holding that sheet and said what she said earlier. How?"

"…I read it."

"You what?" Junkrat questioned, sitting up.

"…" Roadhog pulled out a slab of cardboard. "I read it. Like a book."

"…Are you speaking English still?"

"…That explains a lot. I'll teach you later."

"Okay!" Junkrat resumed his talking as they sailed onwards. "…Hold on, I never thought to ask. What's your actual name?" Roadhog paused.

"…Mako Rutledge." Junkrat paused.

"Mako, huh? Ain't that a kind of fish?"

"It's a kind of shark, not fish." Mako corrected in annoyance.

"Whatever. My name is…I know what it is…don't tell me…Jamison…Fawkes. Yeah, Jamison Fawkes!"

"…"

"Yeah, you can keep calling me Junkrat, or Rat. I haven't used my name in ages."

"…I'm going to call you Jamie instead."

"Alright, I don't care." Junkrat shrugged, watching the water casually as Mako did the same on the other side. *I wonder if he likes fish, his name being Mako and all.*


	9. Authority Issues

Jessie was now in Texas, working at a mom and pop grocery store and drinking constantly at the bar. He wasn't sure what date it was, the days blurred together. When he went into work, he saw a much of decorations up. "Merry Christmas, Jessie!"

"It's Christmas already?" He asked in surprise. "Shoot…" *That means I've been running for almost 2 years now.* He smiled at the woman, hiding his own pain about the holidays. "Merry Christmas, Betty."

"Could you go set these up?"

"Sure thing, ma'am." He set to work, smile slowly fading. He didn't have anyone to celebrate with this time. Last year he celebrated with the person he was staying with, but this year, he didn't have anyone. He sighed as he finished his shift, tilting his hat towards Betty, and heading to the bar again.

"Merry Christmas, or not so much?"

"Not much in the mood for small talk, Pete. Just pour me a glass of Kansas whiskey." The bartender complied, and Jessie didn't even get to take a sip when he heard,

"Hola, amigo."

"What the hell do you want?" He stated as calmly as he could. His blood almost started boiling as soon as she sat by him. He downed the rest of the glass in one gulp. "More, thank you kindly."

"I have a secret about your old trainer." She sang softly.

"I know he's still kicking. You made sure of that last year." Jessie spat bitterly, downing another glass.

"Do you know what he is?"

"Traitorous backstabber." He sighed. "More, thank you kindly."

"…Don't you want to know more?"

"Not really. Don't care. Reyes killed my family, my team. Destroyed my home. What else do I need to know? More, thank you kindly."

"He prefers Reaper now."

"I don't care what he prefers."

"Well, I tried to be nice. You're making things very difficult for mi amigas. Most of them want you dead. Others think you'll be a good addition to our group."

"I ain't a team player anymore." Jessie dismissed, finishing his fourth glass of whiskey. "More, thank you kindly."

"I don't think you understand. You either join, or they kill you." Jessie sat up, stroking his beard.

"Well, both of those seem like mighty fine options. Let me think about it for a second. Hmm…" The woman frowned, tilting her head in confusion.

"What are you-"

"Hold on, I'm thinking…mighty fine options indeed…I think I'll choose option C."

"And what's that option?" She asked in interest. Jessie got right in her face, eyes flashing.

"Tell you to buzz off." She was takenaback.

"What part of they are going to kill you don't you get?"

"I'm going for a smoke." Jessie said casually, finishing his 5th glass. "I'll be back inside in a bit, Pete."

"Okay." Jessie walked out, lighting a cigar and inhaling the smoke. *I don't even know who this little lady works for, but I got an idea. I do know I don't like them.* The woman joined him outside.

"You must have a death wish."

"…You work for Talon, right?"

"Si." Jessie chuckled.

"Figures Reyes would join them if he's hunting down everyone. Didn't he mention? I don't got a death wish: I got a major authority problem. Now step off."

"They're going to come after you."

"Let them try, sweetheart: I'll die from a cold before those jokers do me in." The woman seemingly disappeared, and Jessie finished his cigar, heading back inside. "More whiskey, thank you kindly."

"Who was that lady?"

"General nuisance. Was trying to hire me. I told her I got a job already, but she was very insistent. She shouldn't be back anytime soon, though." Jessie drank as much as he could, wanting to drown out the memories of both the good and the bad. It completely failed until he passed out on the counter. He woke up with the biggest hangover he'd ever had where he'd passed out. Pete was cleaning up the bar.

"You passed out, but I didn't want to move you. Last time I tried, you drew a gun on me, after all."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"You really have an issue. When you first got here, you were the heaviest drinker I'd ever seen, and now, it's even worse."

"Yeah, that's what doctors keep telling me, too." Jessie joked.

"Alcoholism isn't a joke, Jessie. I really think you should join Alcoholics Anonymous or some kind of support group." Jessie's smile faded, and he pulled his hat down over his eyes.

"I'll think about it. I know I got a problem, Pete." *But I don't think it's my drinking.* Jessie walked out, rubbing his head as he headed to work. The cycle continued: he'd work in the mornings, and if the afternoon, he'd go to the bar and drink. He didn't care enough to stop himself, and even though Pete kept at him about joining AA, Jessie would just joke or shrug it off. Then the police discovered where he was, and he had to run again. He'd move towns, and the cycle would begin again. He never stopped helping people, but he didn't care about helping himself. Just after New Year's, he frowned as a breaking news report started.

"We interrupt this program with an emergency announcement. 2 Junkers have been causing panic throughout the globe and are believed to be on their way to the United States by unknown means. One is known only as 'Roadhog', while the other has been identified as Jamison, or Junkrat. If you see these dangerous criminals, please call this number immediately. Do not approach them, and do not interact with them. Stay in your homes and call the police and this number immediately." Jessie frowned as the pictures appeared. *A huge man in a gasmask and pirate that the police can't handle? And that's why I don't like cops: either they don't try or they try hard and can't do it.* Jessie sighed, drinking the rest of his glass. He paid the bartender and left, walking to his camp. *I hope they get caught, but I ain't going out of my way to apprehend them. If I do, I'll get blamed again and imprisoned. Sometimes it's hard trying to help when you can't do anything stealthily.*


	10. Heart to Heart

Junkrat and Roadhog had been pretty much everywhere in the world: Switzerland, Germany, Poland, Russia (Junkrat did not like that place), Turkey, Japan, China, Mongolia, Canada, Brazil, India, Egypt, and Junkrat's personal favorite place so far: Britain. He and Roadhog were now on the way to the United States of America. For some reason, Roadhog had wanted to visit there, the only place he had requested to go. How could Junkrat say no? They hijacked a plane earlier, and Roadhog let Junkrat fly for exactly 5 minutes. After one of the engines almost caught fire, Mako decided never to let Junkrat fly again. Junkrat talked constantly about everything: Coyotes, bombs, and scrap were his favorite subjects. Occasionally Roadhog would let slip some strange things. Junkrat asked as they flew over a gulf,

"Why ain't we allowed to just fly over New York? I've been there once, after all!"

"Aren't."

"What?"

"…We'll be radioed."

"So?"

"…Forget it. We're landing in New Mexico." Junkrat sighed, looking back out the window.

"What would happen if I jumped out the plane?"

"You would die." Roadhog said bluntly. "…We're there…someone's waiting for us."

"Oi, did you tell someone we were landing here?"

"…You're the one who did that." Junkrat frowned.

"Only to one of them!"

"…There were over 100 people who heard you shout it." Roadhog sighed. Junkrat was the first off the plane to see several people in extremely formal attire and one with blue skin and purple body suit.

"G'day!"

"Bonds your." *What does that mean?*

"…I don't have any bonds." Junkrat stated. Roadhog groaned.

"What do you want?"

"Yeah! What do you want, tossers?!" Junkrat echoed.

"My employers will hire you for a certain thing."

"Our motto is no job too big, no job to small, but I don't trust suits. Not anymore." Roadhog nodded: they had both almost lost their lives several times when Junkrat decided to give suits 1, then 2, then 3 more chances. He decided no amount of money was worth the frustration.

"It's nonoptional." The woman didn't change facial expressions.

"That just makes me want to do it less. G'day!" Junkrat began walking off when he heard a gunshot. Roadhog grabbed him by the waist, moving the hit to Junkrat's metal arm as he flew out of the way. The woman suddenly had a gun in her hands. "Oi, that ain't fair!" He shouted as Roadhog threw him under cover, sitting himself as he ducked down his head as bullets began flying. "What'd I say?"

"…Just start fighting, Junkrat." Roadhog stated in annoyance.

"Alright, mate." He began rapid-firing small grenades and traps towards the enemies.

"Down!" Junkrat was almost shot in the head when Roadhog shoved him downwards.

"I had it!" He grumbled, tossing a much larger container away from him. Roadhog blasted it, flames exploding across the airport.

"Let's go." Roadhog grabbed the small man, rushing off the landing bay as Junkrat cackled madly, still tossing bombs wildly. He watched the woman walk into a plane.

"Oi, coward!" Junkrat shouted angrily, cursing wildly. They were almost a mile away when Roadhog set the man down. Junkrat went to go back to the fight, but Roadhog grabbed him by the skull, turning him to face the gas mask.

"You need to get a hold of yourself! Your stupidity is going to cost us our lives!"

"I ain't stupid!"

"Aren't, and yes, you are! You could've blown the entire storage yard: there was gasoline! I want my cut, but I want to live, too!" Junkrat turned bright red.

"What for?! Australia don't want us: The world don't want us: no one wants us! You don't even want me: you just care about the money, just like everyone else! Who cares if we live? Who cares if we die?! All we are to anyone is garbage!" Roadhog paused as the man vented. "They ship their scrap to us, they ship their garbage! You don't think I noticed how people look at me? How people treat my country?! We're exploitable: that's why people hire me as an EOD. They don't expect results: they expect me to do what I'm told, like some kind of…" Junkrat's hands waved wildly as he screamed. "…pet! I ain't a pet, and I sure ain't stupid! I knew what I was in for when we left Australia. I know what people think of me. I don't care what they think of me, but when they bring my home down with me, treating us like animals-not even animals, like the scrap we live in! -I want them DEAD. But I don't, because that makes me no better than what they think of Aussies! I don't want the world to be like Australia: I want them to treat us like people, or at least the same respect they give the things that did it to me home!" Junkrat collapsed, not sobbing, but drained. "I thought that if they won't treat us that way when we act like them, maybe they'll do it when we act like they expect us to, and I've been trying to do that, but I can't! I can't…be heartless." Roadhog sat down as the man finally broke down into tears, completely exhausted. He gently patted Junkrat's shoulder.

"…You're not an idiot." Junkrat didn't react but was listening. "I know we've been abandoned. You're right: no one cares about us, but you're wrong, too. I don't just care about my cut. Why else would I offer to teach you how to read and write, or how to multiply? I don't want you to be heartless, but I don't want you to just throw your life away. You're worth more than a bomb."

"How do you know that?" Junkrat asked quietly.

"Why else would you be so annoying?" Junkrat laughed.

"True…Do you want to rob a bank?"

"Why not?" Junkrat grinned, sitting up. He went to run off when Roadhog grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Oi! What?!"

"You tell anyone about this conversation, I'll kill you myself. Second off, you still have a bullet in your arm."

"No, I don't…oh, I do." He looked down at the bullet in his metal arm in surprise. "That lady had good aim. It's overrated, honestly."

"Heh. Just let me pull that out, then we can go."


	11. Deposit

Jessie had been staking out a bank for almost 5 days now. He knew it well: he and Reyes would go there every month to drop off their paychecks. If Gabe went almost 100 miles out of his way to go to this bank in particular, his mother might do the same. He had no idea what the woman looked like but was hoping she at least acted like his old boss. He knew why he was looking for her: a glimmer of hope that Reyes wasn't killing his team, or assurance he was dead, something to stop his mind from warping the only person he'd ever fully trusted into a traitor. He didn't know what to expect from the woman. Reyes had only mentioned her twice: once about needing to call her, and once when training Jessie, saying she could do more pushups than him. *Who would even be able to handle Reyes as a kid? What was he like as a kid?* He got an image of a kid in an overly large hoodie listening to heavy metal, causing him to snort. *I doubt he was like that.* He stretched carefully, not wanting to give his position away: behind a bush right across from the bank. They had fixed the bank up: no more broken glass and doors, even putting in an air conditioner. Jessie wished he could go inside: he was boiling under the sun. He yawned looking around in boredom. He then saw something that he'd never seen before: a mammoth of a man riding a motorcycle with a tiny man in the sidecar. *What the hell?* He sat up straighter, trying to get a better look. The mammoth had on a gas mask, and the tiny man had a bright orange metal arm with a peg leg sticking up like he didn't exactly fit in the car. *Hold on, those are the folks who've been causing issues. What are they doing all the way in New Mexico? Junkrat and Roadhog, I think…yeah.* He frowned as they simply drove up to the bank in their motorcycle. He saw the reason Junkrat didn't fit properly: there were all kinds of things in the sidecar with him, covering the floor and most of the seat. *News wasn't kidding: they've been everywhere based on that. Hold up, if they're thieves, shouldn't they have more than just that?* Jessie stood up, figuring he'd be found when the police came to try and shut down whatever they were doing in the bank. To his surprise, Junkrat was impatiently waiting in line, tapping his peg leg. Roadhog was calmly standing. Hardly anyone was in the bank, and they weren't recognized just yet. Jessie watched in interest. He'd never heard of two crazy, armed, wanted criminals waiting in line to talk to a bank teller. Jessie heard a scream. *So someone finally recognized them, or saw they were armed. Both are likely.* Junkrat's gun was drawn instantly. *Okay, time for me to step in. Figures. It's quiet for the longest ever, then 2 Australians, who are somewhere in the entirety of the US, find their way to the ONE bank I'm looking for Reyes' mother at.* Jessie entered the bank, and Roadhog turned to look at him.

"Howdy. Ya'll here to withdraw or deposit?" Junkrat turned to face him at that, looking confused.

"What? No, I heard him, Roadie." Jessie frowned: the masked man hadn't said a word. "Who are you?"

"That's McCree! Are we getting robbed by two groups at the same time?!" The teller shouted in horror. Junkrat's face wrinkled up.

"Oi, this is our job, not yours!"

"I ain't here to-" Jessie began, getting a bomb tossed at him for his trouble. He knocked it towards a window, shattering the glass with a bullet. "Down!" The tellers complied as the bomb detonated, Jessie diving behind an unused desk as heavy gun fire from Roadhog began. "Can't have a single week where something doesn't go wrong! Some days go smoothly, then I get a day like this!" He grumbled in annoyance, waiting for a pause before raising his gun up to fire at the Junkers. Roadhog dragged Jessie towards him with his hook. McCree threw down a flash grenade. "Shoot!" He almost blinded the man, retreating behind a desk again.

"You hurt my friend!" Jessie heard the smaller man shout as a bomb landed right next to him. *Shooty shoot!* He grabbed it with his metal hand, chucking it as hard as he could out the broken window. The bomb got halfway through when it detonated, Jessie covering his head with his arms as his ears began to ring loudly. He sat up, trying to find the 2 Junkers. The small one was the easiest to find, his shouting piercing the ringing, though it was unintelligible. Jessie had almost scanned the entire room before he saw Roadhog hidden in the smoke, holding the small man back. Red and blue lights filled the air, and Jessie heard sirens as his hearing returned. *Today is not my day…* Jessie struggled upwards, still dazed from the blast, heading towards the back. He passed a teller, who looked at him.

"Hold on." She whispered, gesturing Jessie downwards. "I remember you and Gabriel Reyes. You were always nice to me. What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for Reyes's mom."

"I know Esmerelda. Her address is 503 Anita Avenue in Colombes, the American side. Now go out the back before they enter here." Jessie nodded in thanks, running out the back.

"Jessie McCree, Junkrat, and Roadhog! Come out with your hands up, or we will open fire!" Jessie slid underneath the bank's foundation, deciding to hide until things calmed down enough for him to get out.

"Come get us, tossers!" *What's a tosser?*

"Last warning: Surrender or we will fire!" Jessie frowned as there was no response from inside.

"…Yeah, what Roadie said!" Gunfire began, as well as explosions. *I'm going to be here for a while, but I can't just leave them to take care of these guys alone…*


	12. Impeccable Aim

Junkrat was furious about the man blinding his only friend, and wanted to actually kill him, but Roadhog was holding him back. "…The cops are here."

"Oh." Junkrat stopped struggling as the familiar blue and red lights flashed and sirens began blaring.

"Jessie McCree, Junkrat, and Roadhog! Come out with your hands up, or we will open fire!" *If we do come out with our hands up, they're probably going to shoot us.*

"Come get us, tossers!"

"Last warning: Surrender or we will fire!"

"…Two things are infinite: the universe and people's stupidity." Junkrat paused, thinking through what Roadhog had said, then shouted,

"…Yeah, what Roadie said!" Guns began firing, and Junkrat started throwing bombs like crazy.

"Get to the motorcycle."

"Aw, fine!" Junkrat grumbled, throwing another grenade. It exploded not even 3 feet out of his hand. "What?!" He threw another one, and it too exploded close by. "Someone's shooting my bombs!"

"Move it, Rat!" Junkrat complied, continuing to launch explosives and them being shot midair. They got to the cycle to find someone had popped the tires. *Who'd know it was ours?* Roadhog didn't let Junkrat ponder this for long, setting him in the sidecar and driving off with the tires deflated. "…You shouldn't have engaged the police. They have more forces than the queen does."

"Well, they're a lot less useful than the Queen's."

"…They weren't expecting us to attack that bank. They're going to be on high alert. And most of them have families." Junkrat paused.

"They do?"

"Yes."

"Huh. That lady freaked me out with her scream. I thought something was wrong!"

"…Something was wrong: we were there."

"I was just curious about what they had behind the desk!"

"…Curiosity kills the rat."

"I thought it was the CAT."

"Not in this case."

"So they thought we shouldn't've be there?"

"…We are international criminals."

"Is that why some of them were shooting my bombs?"

"…What?" Roadhog asked, pulling over to check the bike's tires inside the cave they set up as a camp.

"Yeah! At least one of them kept shooting my bombs before they got far enough to do any damage!"

"…Junkrat, no one has that good an aim." Junkrat frowned. *Maybe it was a malfunction…* Junkrat continued to frown as he pulled apart the other 30 small explosives he had, trying to figure out if it was a malfunction in his creations. None of them were damaged or even had loose wiring.

"Well, it wasn't me bombs: they're completely normal!"

"My."

"What?"

"…" Roadhog sighed, changing the tires in silence as Junkrat began rambling again, rebuilding his explosives calmly.

"So you know that purple lady? Do you know what she meant by 'bonds your'? I mean, I don't have any bonds, do I?"

"…She said Bonjour. It means hello."

"It does? Bonds your means hello?"

"Bonjour." Mako repeated in annoyance.

"Bonjour?"

"Yes."

"I've never heard anyone say that before."

"…Yes, you have. Remember Paris?"

"Oh, that's what they were saying…I heard something else."

"What else could you have possibly heard?"

"Um…" Junkrat thought back as he stuck a screwdriver in his mouth. "Comet all you."

"…Comment allez-vous?"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"…that's 'How are you'." Junkrat snickered.

"I'm alright, how are you?" Roadhog growled. "So Comet All you is how are you?"

"…In French, yes. Just try not to say it: your pronunciation is horrible."

"What's French?"

"…It's directly related to something in France, like French people, or their language."

"Oh, like Russia things are called Russian?"

"…Yes."

"Huh…I messed things up at the bank, didn't I?"

"…Not really. Just be more careful: I don't like having to save your hind."

"Alright, alright. So what do you want to do now?" Junkrat asked, still fiddling with his explosives.

"…It's almost sunset." Roadhog observed.

"So?"

"…We should sleep."

"Ugh…you always say that when the sun goes down!"

"…That's because it's nighttime." Roadhog explained in annoyance.

"So? I used to stay up all the time!" Junkrat protested. Roadhog didn't reply. "I was the watcher at night with Dusty. Could never sleep…never mind." Junkrat interrupted himself, returning to discussing explosives. After several minutes of Junkrat's rambling, Mako asked quietly,

"…Why were you the night guard with Dusty?" Junkrat paused.

"…Did I say that? Um, it doesn't matter."

"For once, talk." For the first time since his leg was removed, Junkrat went quiet, finishing rebuilding his explosives. "…Rat."

"It don't matter."

"Doesn't, and it does to me." Junkrat put his bombs away, laying on the ground.

"I…uh…can't sleep usually. Bad dreams."

"…You have nightmares?"

"I guess." Junkrat said quietly, picking at the ground as his body faced the sitting Roadhog.

"What about?"

"…getting pinned. A while ago, I was scrapping with Dusty-he stabbed me in the back later, but then he was a good friend-, my arm got pinned during a quake. We didn't have any supplies to handle that kind of thing, so Dusty had to go back to town…I was alone for 16 hours, pinned to a wall. I figured I was dead anyways, so when Dusty came back, I told him to lob it off. It would be better to die free than stuck to a wall in a tiny little space, right? He did, and when we got to town, I got this piece of junk from an Omnic part seller. Used to be an Omnic's, now it's mine."

"…I was an English teacher." Junkrat paused. "You keep asking why I say certain things. I was an English teacher before those things came into Australia. My…my wife was the Science and Math Teacher, I was History and English. They killed her, and the world just watched. After the crisis ended, they decided to give the Omnics Australia. They destroyed millions of lives, my life, and they got a continent as punishment. A few of us started fighting the government. Most of Australia did, in fact. Then my group got the bright idea of blowing the Omnium."

"What?" Roadhog continued as if he didn't hear Junkrat, voice starting to crack.

"I warned them what would happen. I wasn't a scientist, or ever good at climatology, but I knew the nuclear fallout would destroy everything we were working towards. They ignored me, and I didn't stop them from going. It's my fault Australia's the way it is." Junkrat sat up, unsure what to do.

"…What's that thing you say sometimes? Right. That's life. We can't change it, so why worry about it? Sides, the way I heard it, you tried. That's all that really matters."

"Heh. Can't decide if you're an idiot, naïve, or a genius."

"That's part of my allure!" Junkrat laughed, joined in by Roadhog.


	13. Mother Dearest

Jessie managed to keep any of the officers from dying but didn't save them from getting injured. 20 of the police officers got severe burns, and a few had glass get embedded in their skin, but it was better than McCree had hoped for. The police got statements from everyone, but never saw McCree hiding under the building, out of sight and not making a sound. *I need a drink…* The police finally left after almost 12 hours, well into the night. McCree decided to sleep under the bank just to be safe, and when he woke up, he headed towards Colombes. He got there after 4 days of travel, exhausted and dusty. He found the house after referencing a few maps and keeping out of sight from the police. It looked like every other house: one story, cream and blue with 2 flower boxes that were completely dead due to the drought in the area. It did have a small difference: 3 signs reading 'No Trespassing', 'Do Not Enter', and 'Private Property' on the door. He frowned, taking a deep breath, and knocked. A woman opened the door at the first sound.

"Hola…" She trailed off, looking him over.

"Pardon me, ma'am, but are you Esmerelda?"

"Esmerelda? I know 3 people with that name. I'm going to need a last name."

"Reyes."

"Oh, that one. She's my neighbor across the street. Ella es loco. Can I help you?"

"No, ma'am, thank you kindly for your time." Jessie sighed in relief and headed across the street. This house looked a bit different: it was green and cream instead of blue, and somehow, it's flowers were still alive. Looking closer at them, Jessie saw they were cacti, and he swallowed a chuckle. He knocked. There was no reply. He knocked again. The door was yanked open, and a woman was suddenly standing there.

"Hola. I don't want whatever you are selling." Jessie paused. This was definitely Gabe's mother: she had the arms crossed, the scowl, and the attitude of Jessie's old trainer. She seemed rather annoyed.

"Ma'am, are you Esmerelda Reyes?"

"Are you la policia?"

"No, ma'am." She looked him up and down.

"Are you with Talon?"

"Hell no, ma'am."

"Clearly. Gabriel would never let you go anywhere in that…mess. Come in."

"…Ma'am, I haven't introduced myself, and you're letting me inside?"

"I can take care of myself: clearly you cannot. Inside. Do you drink tea?"

"…Do you have whiskey?" Her lighthearted laugh gave way to a harsh,

"No. Do you drink tea?"

"I'd…like some, thank you kindly…" Jessie looked around. There were all sorts of crafts scattered around the room, as if she had been working on several of them at once. As his eye continued around the room, he locked onto what clued him into the fact this woman wasn't as normal as she seemed: there was a locked room labeled 'Sala de Armes (Weapon Room)'.

"There's clothes that will fit you in Gabriel's old room: I'm cleaning that disgusting thing."

"Ma'am, I didn't come here for you to insult my fashion choices." She laughed again.

"Fashion choices! I can see why mi hijo liked you."

"…He didn't."

"Exactly, now change. 2nd door: past the bathroom." Jessie complied with a sigh, figuring he would need his energy to deal with this woman later. He wasn't surprised to see all the clothes in the room were black but was surprised to see a bunch of empty CD holders.

"Ma'am, some of your CD's are missing."

"Those were Gabriel's. He took them." Pain entered woman's voice, but she continued, voice ordering once again, "T-shirts are in the top drawer, pants are in the bottom. You don't seem like a shorts person."

"Sometimes I'll wear them." She laughed.

"That's not what I meant." Jessie changed into the black outfit, putting on his BAMF belt, and exited the room holding his uniform. Esmerelda snatched them from his hand. "Look at this…your serape is in tatters, your uniform filthy…" She sighed, throwing it into the laundry.

"Well, ma'am, I have been on the run for the past 3 years."

"No excuses. Didn't Gabe ever teach you to at least patch?" She sat down in a chair, pulling out a sewing kit and setting to work.

"He did: I just didn't care."

"Absolutely shameful." She stated, shaking her head. "Now, why are you here?"

"…Is Gabe alive?"

"Si."

"…Is he…the one hunting down my old teammates?"

"Not exactly." She said, still stitching.

"…Pardon, but I don't understand."

"Gabriel has a dark side. In Overwatch, he was able to control it. They betrayed him, and he lost control of himself. He's not the one hunting them down: his inner demon is."

"Overwatch didn't betray him."

"All I know about Overwatch is what Gabriel and the news tell me. Both sources say Overwatch betrayed him, so in return, he betrayed Overwatch."

"…So he is the one killing them all."

"Si, in a way." Jessie looked down at his hands.

"He blew up my home and is hunting down my friends. He ain't the guy I knew anymore."

"If you believe that, you can leave as soon as your laundry is done: my son is not dead. He's just lost right now. He'll find his way again." Esmerelda continued fixing Jessie's cloak calmly. "How did you find me?"

"Gabe always went to the bank a while that way: I figured you did too. One of the tellers remembered you and gave me your address as thanks."

"Ah, but what I meant was how did you know Gabriel had a mother?" Jessie chuckled.

"Everyone's got a mother-" He got smacked.

"No sass!" Jessie rubbed his cheek softly, saying,

"S-sorry, ma'am. He mentioned you a couple of times. He had to call you once, and he said that you could beat me and one of my friends in pushups easy."

"I could. He told me you used to call him Yankee."

"Yeah, he wouldn't tell me his name and I wanted to annoy him. It worked a little too well. Almost killed me during training after I'd use it."

"If you have enough energy to make a wisecrack, you have enough energy to walk 10 miles."

"…That's where he got it from." The woman finished patching his serape quickly, and the laundry finished soon afterwards. "Thank you for fixing my stuff up, ma'am."

"I wouldn't have let you leave if I didn't. Just remember: Gabriel isn't gone: just lost."

"…If you say so, ma'am." Jessie said, not believing her at all.


	14. What Now?

Junkrat frowned as he and Mako rested. For about 3 years they had traveled the entirety of the globe, having fun and taking some interesting things. Junkrat always broke his no more than a week after getting it, but he liked looking at Mako's collection. Junkrat looked at Mako in interest. It didn't take long for Mako to noticed Junkrat's silence. "…What?"

"Mate, how many countries haven't we visited?"

"…We've visited all of them but New Zealand."

"Which we're in now."

"Yes."

"Remember London?"

"Yes."

"That was fun. Oh, what about the chocolate heist in Switzerland?!"

"It was a watch heist that you insisted on getting chocolate after."

"Well, we stole chocolate, right?"

"Yes."

"So I'm right. Oh, remember that cowboy?"

"…The one who was robbing the bank at the same time we were, or the one who tried to arrest us?"

"Both!"

"Yes."

"Fun times…we've been everywhere, done everything I can think of…what do we do now?"

"…I have no idea."

"You always know, mate."

"Heh. Not always."

"We could do it again."

"We're wanted in every country. Last time we survived because they didn't know us. If we do it again, we won't be that lucky."

"That's true. We could…try to start a real business."

"It was a fiasco last time."

"You're right, that's not a good plan." Junkrat waved that concept away. "…What about starting a business, but we don't do it…normally?"

"…What?"

"Hear me out, mate. We start a business, but instead of people hiring us, we hire them?"

"…You mean we help them without pay?"

"Yeah!"

"…"

"No, you're right. That don't make any sense."

"Doesn't."

"Right, it doesn't…What if we become professional criminals?"

"We already are."

"Well, we could do it more…enthusiastically?"

"…No, we can't."

"You're right, I did get a little excited…in all of the jobs." Junkrat muttered sheepishly. "Come on, mate! At least throw one idea in!"

"…What if we tried a different kind of crime spree?"

"…There are different kinds of crime?"

"Yes. We were doing a violent crime spree: stealing, destruction of property…murder."

"That one time was a complete accident, I swear! I got a little…overexcited."

"You shoved a bomb in his mouth."

"In my defense, he called you fat."

"…That doesn't mean you can kill someone. I don't care what they think of me. Neither do you."

"That still don't-doesn't-give them the right to say that kind of thing!"

"Agreed but try not to do that again. Besides, he's not the only one we've killed. Anyways, we could try something else, besides violent crimes."

"Hmm…Want to kidnap someone?" Mako looked at him in surprise.

"…Why?"

"Well, I heard it's like taking care of the kid, but you get money from people for doing it."

"…That's babysitting. It's not the same thing."

"It's not?"

"…No. Kidnapping someone usually involves them getting hurt in same way if the parents don't pay money." Mako explained calmly.

"We could kidnap someone and not have to hurt them, right?"

"…Yes."

"Would it be called babysitting then?" Mako shook his head.

"…Not if we take the child without permission."

"There's a lot of rules with this kind of thing, isn't there?"

"…Not really. You just think differently than most people."

"Oi, are you calling me dumb?"

"No. Just different. So we're going to kidnap someone?"

"Why not?!" Junkrat jumped up, but Mako didn't move.

"…Okay. Who?"

"I don't know." Junkrat shrugged. "Everyone?"

"…Junkrat, who's going to pay the ransom for everyone if we have everyone?"

"Good point." Junkrat plopped down, thinking. "What about someone from that weird named place?"

"…You need to be more specific."

"Um…the one with that lady who wouldn't stop staring at me?"

"…Not helping: you attract a lot of attention."

"The one with the lady with the metal arm, like me, Roadie! Her's was a lot cleaner, though. I don't think she even had any dirt on her, actually. Wonder how she does that."

"…Oh, you're talking about Vishkar Industries."

"Yeah, that place!"

"Okay. I'm sure we could find someone in that company with a kid."

"So…are we going now?"

"Yes. You need to work on your patience." Roadhog sighed, standing up slowly.

"Isn't that what doctors have?"

"No. It's your ability to wait."

"Oh…yeah, I'm bad at that."

"Have you tried counting?"

"Once…I ended up setting fire to everything around me."

"…You like clocks, right?"

"Yeah! I like the ticking noise."

"Try saying tick-tok. It might help."

"Okay!" Junkrat stated cheerfully as they headed to another plane storage yard since Junkrat had accidently set fire to the gasoline tank, blowing up the former plane. Mako had learned from the manual and 3 years of practice how to fly, but still wasn't extremely comfortable in a plane. Junkrat was worse but could handle it as long as there was a window. The talking was still constant, with about a 5 second gap every 5 minutes to catch his breath, but Mako was so used to it by now he was able to just ignore him. He rarely said anything of importance, and just rambled on about something. He didn't even expect Roadhog to listen: he just liked talking. They flew towards India unnoticed, landing in a field. They got out with the motorcycle and side car casually, so used to the situation it wasn't even a concern. "Oi, mate? Who's that?" Junkrat asked, pointing to a growing shadow in the sky.

"…Hide."

"What?"

"Hide, NOW!" Junkrat complied, ducking underneath the plane as Roadhog hid beside him. Bullets flew across the sky, hammering into the ground, into the plane, and all around. Mako moved his arms over Junkrat, covering his skull.

"Who is that?!"

"Not the police. They don't fire without warning."

"Military?"

"They wouldn't open fire on a target without identifying them for sure."

"…Private mates?"

"Probably."

"Who'd know about us?" Junkrat asked, looking confused as the bullets continued flying.

"…Who wouldn't?"

"Oh, yeah. we've been everywhere…Who'd we make this mad, though?"

"…Talon or someone in London with impressive connections."

"We got a bird angry?"

"…It's a terrorist group. The French woman we met in the US? She works for them."

"Oh. Mate?"

"What?"

"After this, the kidnapping, and something else, do you think we can go back to Australia?"

"…Okay."


	15. Old Friends

Jessie sighed as he was holed up in Colorado. *I go to investigate some chatter about Overwatch reforming, and I get into a shooting match.* He peered out, and almost got shot in the head before he retreated back. *30 police, don't want to kill anyone…Think, think…* Suddenly, gunfire filled the air, followed with several grunts, curses, and shouts of confusion. *What in tarnation?* He waited until it was almost silent, then peered out. A man in a red, white, and blue college football jacket and a mask over his face was holding a gun and was surrounded by unconscious police officers.

"You still can't keep your head down."

"Morrison?" Jessie was at first relieved that someone he knew was alive, then confused as to why he was here, then angry. "What the hell is going on?! First Reyes, now you?! Is anyone really dead or did you all just lie to everyone you worked with?!"

"McCree-" Jessie aimed his gun right at Morrison, anger sparking. "…Gabe isn't the same person we knew. Neither am-"

"I don't give a d***. You lied to me. I gave my life to Overwatch: I had to leave because of you and Reyes's fighting. I've been on the run for 4 years: I don't even have a home thanks to Gabe blowing it to bits. My friends are dead because of him, and you've been alive this entire time, letting him do it."

"I didn't have a choice. I can't get a lock on him."

"Heh. You think I'm going to buy that? You two know each other better then you know yourselves. Now, I appreciate your help, but I'm going to tell you to leave once."

"I came to offer you a chance to rejoin Overwatch." McCree laughed.

"I ain't joining. I lost 2 families already: I ain't joining a 3rd."

"McCree, where else can you go? Like you said, you've been running all across the western states for 5 years." Jessie holstered his gun, realizing Morrison wasn't going to shoot him.

"Still have your way with words, I see. I don't know, but I ain't going with you. Never again."

"I'm not in authority any-"

"I don't care if you're a janitor! You lied to me: Angela lied to me. I was told you both were dead! Gabe is hunting down every single person I ever trusted, killing them like sheep. I don't care what you call yourselves, but I know what you all are. Now leave before I start shooting."

"You're not going to shoot me. It's not in your nature." Jessie pulled the gun out, completely done with the situation.

"I have 6 bullets, and a 99% accuracy. Those sound like good odds to test out?" Jessie armed his gun, anger fueling him forward. Morrison raised his hands in surrender, realizing Jessie wasn't bluffing.

"I'm going to leave a communicator here for you."

"20 seconds before I make you a real corpse." The man set down a small ear piece, walking off. Jessie began to walk away, then paused. He picked up the communicator, putting it in his ear. It felt odd after so long without one, but he latched onto the familiar feeling.

"McCree said no."

"Oh, no…I wanted to say hi after so long." He recognized Lena's voice instantly. *She's still alive. Good.*

"It's not as surprising as you think. He was the closest with Commander Reyes and Morrison." *Is that the scientist from the moon? …Winston, I think. I thought he'd died. Seems to be a lot of people I thought were dead.* "He feels betrayed, just like you did."

"Only I did something." Jessie growled under his breath. *Yeah, you did a lot to stop my team from getting killed!*

"Luv, haven't you seen the news? He has. Sure, he gets blamed for it, but he's stopped a bunch of people from getting hurt."

"Is Ana back yet?" *She's…alive? And she didn't tell me, either. Morrison I could understand, but her and Gabe?* Jessie cursed lightly under his breath. *Apparently no one trusted me when I placed all my trust in them.* He stopped listening to what they were saying: He only wanted to know who was alive. *Ana, Morrison, Lena, Winston, Reyes, and I think I hear someone else I don't recognize back there talking to Reinhardt, too. How is it that the founders survive but not my team? Reinhardt's almost 90 by now, and Ana's only 2 years younger than him.* Jessie shrugged in dismissal, but he missed them, no matter what he said or did.

*Maybe I should've accept his offer. No. If they don't trust you, you can't trust them. That's the way it worked in the gang and in Overwatch. At least in the Deadlock Gang, when you died, you died for real. I shouldn't have thought that.* He pulled off his hat, looking over it. It had ink stains, blood stains, a bullet hole in the top, and more normal wear and tear. *It's not going to be in the same shape when I give it back, Katie. Sorry about that.* He replaced his hat. *I need to go to a more familiar setting.*

He started heading off, lighting a cigar as he walked. He looked down at his flask. *Almost empty, as usual.* He kept walking as the noise from Overwatch continued in his ear. He found his way to a train station after several weeks of travel, and he hopped on top of it, familiar with where it was safe to rest and ride without actually having a ticket. He sighed heavily as he got as comfortable as he could. *Nice day. Hopefully it doesn't rain this time.* He pulled his hat down, locking it into place with his hand as the train started to move. He watched the Colorado mountains disappear, giving way to open plains and rain clouds. *Of course it's going to be raining. What else can go wrong?* In response, thunder shook the sky. *Great. Well, it could be worse: people could be shooting at you again. Goodbye, Colorado: Oklahoma, here I come.*


	16. Junker Babysitting

Junkrat had been sleeping when something latched onto his leg. "OI, WHAT THE HELL!" It was the little kid, who started laughing as Junkrat hopped up in surprise, jumping around on his one-real leg. "Let go, you little rugrat!"

"Where'd your leg go?"

"Someone blew it up, now let go!" The kid refused, and Junkrat continued his antics.

"Jamison, it is 3 in the morning!"

"The rugrat won't let go!" Mako sat upright, looking at him in annoyance.

"They are called children."

"Okay, the children won't let me go!" The small boy let go, laughing wildly. "Oi, you did it!"

"I'm not children! I'm a kid!"

"…Oh, I said the wrong word." Junkrat plopped down, exhausted. Mako was a lot better with the kid then Junkrat was, but he was always up early in the morning, which was not Mako's best time. They had had him for 5 days now, with no response from the single dad. "Do you always act like this?"

"No. Dad won't let me."

"I ain't letting you, either!"

"Yeah, but you can't keep me in the corner because you're not my dad!"

"…Fair enough, but would you please stop latching onto my leg? I can't walk right when you do that!"

"Okay! Why'd you take me, anyways?"

"I was bored and wanted to try something new."

"…So you stole me?" Junkrat paused, then whispered excitedly,

"Kidnapping is stealing?!"

"In a way, I guess."

"That's awesome!"

"Junkrat…" Mako growled, flipping to the side away from Junkrat, covering his ears with his hands.

"S-sorry, mate."

"He's grumpy, huh?" Junkrat shushed the much louder kid.

"Only sometimes…" Junkrat's eyes lit up as he got an idea. "Want to try something fun?" The kid nodded eagerly. Junkrat pulled out some bombs. "Okay, so I'm learning most people don't know about bombs, but I sometimes do this when I'm bored, and it's perfectly safe…as long as you do it correctly." Junkrat stated with a mild frown. The little boy watched in interest.

"What's that?"

"Nitrose." The kid paused.

"What's that?"

"An explosive that I prefer to use. It's somewhat stable, and formable. Nitrose and gunpowder are my favorites."

"So like explosible playdoh?"

"Don't know what that is, but sure. See this wire? Don't touch it: it could have a current. First time I touched one, my hair started burning."

"Your hair is still burning!"

"No, it ain't. Your eyes are messed up." Junkrat corrected, calmly hooking the wires up as he demonstrated it to the kid. "Now we're ready."

"Ready for what?"

"To fly!" The kid lowered his voice as his eyes widened.

"You mean we get to DETONATE it?"

"What else would we do with it?" Junkrat asked, setting his battered and half-destroyed tire with a wink. "Into the tire! The rubber keeps your legs from getting hit with the fire, so you'll be fine!" The kid hopped inside in front of Junkrat, and Junkrat giggled, getting ready to press the button. "Everything inside?"

"Yup!"

"Alright! FIRE IN THE HOLE!" Junkrat pressed it with glee, causing both of them to go flying into the air. The kid laughed wildly as it flew through the air, as did Junkrat. Then the tire landed upside down, Junkrat's face getting implanted into the concrete as the kid was cushioned by Junkrat's body.

"JAMISON, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

"Can we go again!"

"Okay, sure!" Junkrat said happily, shaking off the impact.

"NO!" Junkrat turned to protest but saw the embers of rage growing in Mako's eyes.

"U-um…no…"

"Okay. That was awesome!" Junkrat was pulled to the side somewhat sternly by Mako.

"What? The kid was fine!"

"Junkrat, if that kid had hit the ground, he would have been severely injured, if not killed."

"Oh…I will not be doing that again, then."

"No, you won't." The phone rang, and Junkrat paused, looking at it oddly. Roadhog sighed. "The green button, Jamie."

"Right. Hello?"

"I-I have your money. Please don't hurt my son!" Junkrat gave Roadhog a thumbs up.

"We're making the exchange at the Numbani Bridge at noon."

"Okay! We're doing the exchange at the Numb Annie Bridge at noon. Don't be late!" Roadhog face-palmed himself as Junkrat hung up. "Oi, Roadie?"

"What?"

"I kind of like the kid…"

"I noticed, but we can't keep him. He has a father who's probably worried sick, and we both have no idea how to take care of a 5-year-old, least of all in Australia."

"I know, but he's really nice…Oi, rugrat!"

"Yeah?"

"Your father's paying us 2 million!"

"That's a lot of money!"

"And it's for you!"

"REALLY?!"

"Yup! We're going to the Numb Annie Bridge tomorrow!"

"Numbani." Mako corrected in annoyance.

"Numbani Bridge!" The kid smiled happily. Junkrat started a small fire, trying to cook something. When he got done, it was ash. "Um…breakfast kind of burned…"

"…Junkrat…how?" Mako sighed, cooking eggs himself. The kid got all 3 of them, Junkrat trying to cook another batch. Those got blackened but were at least edible. "…Better." They dropped the kid off and got their cash without any issues, the kid shouting as he went,

"I got blown up and survived!" Roadhog sighed heavily.

"Are you ready to go back to Australia now?"

"Not yet, I have one more thing to do."

"What do you want to do?" Junkrat held up a dented and blackened suitcase.

"I found a trader in Nepal!"

"…For what?" Junkrat smiled widely.

"You'll have to wait and see, mate!"

"Why do I feel like this will either be ridiculous or hilarious?"

"Can't it be both?" Junkrat asked with a shrug. "Oh, yeah. We need to find another plane…again…"

"No. We're taking a boat to Nepal. No more planes."

"You sure?"

"We have gone through 3 planes: two you blew up-"

"Both of which were complete accidents!"

"You still did it."

"…True."

"-2 which you blew up, and one that got shot into scrap. I'd rather not test our luck with a fourth."

"…Fair enough, but I am pretty lucky!"

"Lucky as a broken mirror…"


	17. We Meet Again

Jessie sighed as he set up camp. He was 2 days out of cigars, and 5 days out of alcohol. He needed a drink badly but ran out of money a few weeks ago: with his wanted status almost national at this point, he couldn't get even a little bit of help from Overwatch's few supporters for fear of being caught. He listened to the daily and official chatter on his communicator constantly. It helped him sleep without nightmares. He didn't visit Esmerelda again, not wanting to get into an argument with the woman. He didn't contact Overwatch, just listened to them. Until he started listening to them talking and laughing, he hadn't realized how lonely he was. He was growing to reject his decision not to rejoin. Overwatch had been the closest thing to a family he had for a long time. He stopped himself.

*They don't trust me enough to tell me about them surviving. I gave them 14 years of my life, and they just let me believe both my boss, my commander, and my trainer were dead for 5 years. If they don't trust me enough for that, there's no telling what they'll hide from me next time.* He laid down, tired of being confused and angry. He stared at the sky, watching the clouds and planes slowly move across the sky. *They should've trusted me. I trusted them to take care of me, to protect my family, and I find out one of them is hunting each of my teammates down like some kind of poacher, and the others haven't done anything about it.*

"Oi, Winston!" Lena called.

"Yes, Lena? What going on in the mission?"

"There's no problems. I just wanted to talk. Do you think we could try to get McCree again?"

"Lena, he said no. We have to respect his wishes."

"Well, Soldier said no originally, too."

"He drew a gun on him."

"So did Bridgette!"

"She thought it was Talon. Lena, I know you want McCree back, but he made it clear what he thought about it."

"I know McCree. We trained and joked together. He's a good person. He's hurting, like all of us were when we found out Soldier was alive. I had you, you had me; Bridgette and Reinhardt had each other; and Ana knew the whole time. He's alone." McCree couldn't help himself at the sound of Lena's sadness. He turned on the 2-way.

"Howdy."

"…M-McCree?" Winston stated in confusion.

"Yup. Lena, I've been listening to the comms. Ya'll don't need to worry about me: I'll be fine. Just keep Morrison away from me: never much liked the Yankee."

"Alright, but if you change your mind-"

"I know your number." McCree finished, cutting off the comms completely. He leaned back, looking at the sky again. *I hope I'm making the right choice.* He fell into a restless sleep, and in the morning, he started moving again. He continued on for almost 3 months, his addiction to alcohol and cigars causing him to rob a few places but other than that, protecting as many people as he could on the run.

He kept going until he got to a town whose bar didn't care if a few bottles went missing and a smoking shop that didn't keep careful track of its cigars. He decided to 'permanently' set up camp there, or at least until the police found him again. If he remembered correctly, he would be 38 next week. He sighed as he laid in the camp, thinking through everything. He suddenly remembered he had the communicator off still. He turned it back on.

"Is Reyes back yet?" Jessie paused. *What?*

"No, he's still looking for him." Lena stated, sounding like she was frowning. "I still don't know why we're trusting him."

"It's a long story. Just know he hates Talon a lot more than any of us now."

"That may have worked 10 years ago, sir, but it won't work now. Why are we trusting him? Even worse, why are we trusting Widow?!" *Who?*

"When Gabe calls about McCree, ask him! I have to contact Widow." *Reyes is looking for me. Knew he was coming eventually.* Suddenly, a gravelly voice said,

"I found him."

"Why are we trusting you?"

"You're not: you're letting me destroy Talon."

"Why?" There wasn't a response. "Perfect…this isn't going to end well." Jessie waited calmly for Reyes to show up, gun drawn. A man in a black trench coat, black combat armor, and a skull mask entered the camp, looking around calmly. Jessie aimed his gun right at the man's skull, cocking it.

"You got quite a pair coming up here, Reyes."

"Nice to see you, too." Reyes said. His slight Spanish accent was gone, replaced by a tone Jessie only could describe as permanently sarcastic and angry. Jessie spat,

"I don't want any of the lies you're spewing." Reaper spun, knocking the gun out of McCree's hand, grabbed his other hand, twisted his wrist, forcing him to let go or risk breaking his wrist and caught both guns, aiming them at McCree. He then dismantled them. *Shoot, I forgot how good he was.*

"Now can we talk, kid?" McCree attacked. He beat Reaper this time, pinning him. Reaper laughed, causing him to pause. "You've gotten a lot better. Sit." McCree resisted the urge to follow the order and continued holding him down. Reaper melded through Jessie's hands, appearing behind him. *What the hell?!* Reaper pulled off one of his shotgun shells. "Didn't want to do this, but you aren't giving me a choice." Reaper pressed down and McCree ducked. A shower of confetti filled the air. He stood up shakily. *What?* "Now are you ready to talk, Jesse?" He nodded, completely unable to comprehend what had happened. "So, I rejoined Overwatch." That snapped the cowboy out of his daze as he stared.

"You did? Really did, or is that another one of your lies?"

"I never lied to you, kid." Jessie snapped angrily,

"What do you call destroying the Switzerland Overwatch Facility?"

"Not my fault."

"Was it Morrison?" Jessie sighed, tired of the blame game. *That's why I left in the first place.*

"No. Sombra."

"Sombra? Who's Sombra, and how do you know?" McCree said incredulously.

"I know she did. She admitted to it." *Who is he talking about?*

"…S'plain, Reyes."


	18. Homebound

Junkrat calmly entered the building, with a much more confused Roadhog. A man was sitting at a table, then stood when they entered. "Hello. How can I help you?"

"G'day! I'm Jamie: we talked earlier." The man looked surprised at his burned, soot-covered face, but accepted it in stride. His gas-mask wearing friend without a shirt definitely freaked him out, though.

"Oh, yes! I am quite interested in your collection, Mr. Fawkes." *Who's Mr. Fawkes?* Roadhog sighed.

"…That's you, Jamie."

"Oh. Well, here it is!" Junkrat opened the container, and Roadhog went more quiet than usual.

"…Pokémon cards? The treasure…is Pokémon cards?"

"Yup!" The man carefully examined them as Roadhog stared. Junkrat smiled up at him in excitement.

"…That can't be what you've been bragging about."

"It is!"

"Well, that seems to be in order, but they are quite damaged, which lowers the value. I can-" *Liar. I know what they're worth. Time to bluff the truth out!*

"No, they ain't." Junkrat interrupted.

"I'm sorry, but they are heavily damaged."

"No, they ain't. Roadie, does these look heavily damaged to you?"

"…I have no idea."

"Exactly!" Junkrat turned back to the man with a smile.

"Um...your friend didn't say anythi-"

"I want 100 million." Junkrat interrupted. Roadhog almost choked on nothing in surprise.

"Jamison, they're just cards." The person who was buying seemed just as surprised.

"At most I could give you 80 million." Roadhog felt silent.

"Then I'll take them elsewhere!" He said cheerfully, closing the case and beginning to walk out. Roadhog began to follow Jamison with the man said,

"Alright, 85." Junkrat turned with a slightly wider smile.

"99." Junkrat countered, turning back towards the buyer. Roadhog remained silent, watching both Junkrat and the buyer in confusion.

"87."

"98."

"…" The buyer looked stressed. "…93, but that's my final offer."

"Alright!" Junkrat set the cards back down, and the man forked over the money in cash.

"…Jamie, that's only 79."

"That's not what we agreed on." Junkrat sang, to the man looking panicked, giving them the rest.

"…He gave us 94." Junkrat frowned, struggling to count out how many bills that was more. Roadhog sighed, taking the cash and counting it out for him. Junkrat handed the extra million back.

"G'day!"

"H-have a good day?" They walked out to Junkrat whistling happily.

"…Were you bluffing?"

"Yeah! I don't know what heavily damaged means with cards!"

"…Good job."

"Thanks, mate! …What do you do with half of 93 million?"

"…I know what I'm doing with my cut."

"I might buy some scrap and trade it for a house up north."

"…What's up north?"

"Oh, it's kind of like what things over here are like! People still don't use money, but they cleaned up some and live over there. No scrap, no Queen…I've avoided it so far because it doesn't have anything of real interest, but now it sounds nice."

"Yes…" Junkrat frowned.

"Wait, you got your pay now…we don't need to stay together."

"…No, we don't, but I told you I would teach you how to write and do math."

"Yeah, you did…What are you going to do with your cut?"

"…Donate it. There are a lot of kids who need help. I can't in person, but maybe the money can."

"That sounds nice." Junkrat stated, not sure what else to say to the quiet man. "Let's head back. Maybe the Queen isn't as angry as she was when we left!"

"I doubt that. I just hope Matilda doesn't show up again."

"How could I have known she'd follow us to the Himilayas?!"

"…How do you pronounce that right, but can't say Numbani?"

"I know how to say Numb Annie!"

"…No, you don't." They entered the stolen boat, with over 5 years of collected items and 6 months of supplies to get them to Australia. It went without a hitch, and they got to Australia quickly. When they got within visual distance, almost the entirety of the Queen's henchmen was waiting for them. Junkrat frowned as he watched the darker blurs scramble around. "…I think someone tipped the Queen off we were coming back."

"Looks like it. Think they're still upset about us trying to steal the jewels?" Gunfire began, along with several cannons going off.

"…Yes."

"Is now a bad time to mention I can't swim?" Roadhog looked half-annoyed, half-concerned.

"…Yes, not that it will matter: the water is nuclear here."

"Oh." They watched as the people continued trying to hit them from almost a mile away.

"…Jamie, you know how I told you not to work with your explosives in the boat?"

"Yeah?"

"…Now is a good time to ignore that."

"Okay." Junkrat set to work making a large enough concussive force to launch them to Australia so they didn't sink into deadly water, and Mako just watched the army slowly grow bigger as he carefully set the stuff in a metal tin to protect it from the coming explosion. A splash hit the water 2 feet from the boat.

"…Their aim is getting closer to the boat."

"And I don't want to lose another limb. Hold on." Junkrat said in frustration as the moving water was making it very difficult to have steady hands. "Okay. Get in the tire, mate."

"…Is this the only reason you carry around a tire?" Roadhog asked as he settled into the rubber circle.

"Duh! Well, and I sometimes use them to make bombs I can detonate remotely."

"…I feel like I should be worried." Mako stated as Junkrat wedged himself inside the tire.

"Nah. FIRE IN THE HOLE!" Both of them went flying, Junkrat laughing his head off and Roadhog certain they were going to die. They landed safe and sound, a few hundred yards away from the armada waiting for them. "Okay, time to get the stuff-" Roadhog pulled Junkrat up, setting him outside of the tire as he got up himself.

"Safety first, then stuff. Go, Jamie!" Junkrat frowned, but complied, continuing to laugh as he enjoyed being back in his home, being chased by people he knew, and not being alone for once.


	19. Long Story

"S'plain, Reyes." Jessie was tired of trying to guess: he wanted a full explanation, and didn't care who he got it from.

"I don't know all the details." Jessie shook his head in annoyance, gun still at the ready.

"Then tell me what you know!"

"…Are you going to shoot me?"

"If I have to." Reyes chuckled lightly.

"I joined Talon because I thought Jack blew up the Switzerland base. I wanted everyone involved dead."

"Back up. You thought Morrison caused that explosion? Really?" Jessie repeated incredulously.

"Never said it was a plausible thought."

"Fair enough."

"I hunted down everyone who was involved if I had worked with them or not. I thought they all were involved with what happened to me."

"And what happened to you?"

"I'll explain that later. 3 months ago, I overheard a conversation I wasn't supposed to. It was Sombra talking to Doomfist."

"Okay, who's Sombra? You keep mentioning her."

"Wears a purple trenchcoat, heavy Spanish accent, good hacker."

"Her? She caused the explosion? She has to be less than 20 years old!"

"…You met her?" Reyes asked in surprise.

"Yeah, gave me a sweater you made and a sewing kit." He was silent for a while, then growled,

"…That's where it went. She's not only responsible for the explosion, she's in control of Talon."

"Okay, you just went from improbable to impossible."

"She's 24. I don't know how she's in command, I don't care how. She's also the one causing Omnics to lose control again."

"So you're telling me that not only are you and Jack not at fault for blowing up my home, but a teenager is, and she's creating a war that is going to cause 1,000s of innocent people and robots to die and are trying to convince me to rejoin something I quit?"

"Basically." Jessie blinked slowly, trying to comprehend what just was said.

"…Yea, I ain't buying it. 'Sides, I ain't in that business. Don't want anything to do with that can o' worms."

"Jessie, I'm not kidding." *He called me by my first name again. He must really believe this, or want me to buy into it.*

"Name one reason why I should believe anything you say. Just one." Reaper stayed silent. "I thought so. 'Sides, how'd you and Jack even survive? I saw that explosion on the news. You couldn't have lived."

"I didn't." McCree didn't believe that in the least. "Jack was in the freezer when it happened. I'd locked him in there as a joke. Turns out he only got a scratch across the face and eye from it. I wasn't so lucky. I was in rough shape when Mercy found me. I was dead, actually, half my face crushed, my ribs caved in, both legs pinned and my right arm broken in three different places. I managed to save a little kid, at least. She was on a school trip and got separated from her class on her way to the bathroom. She was paralyzed, but alive. Mercy did her weird magic-science junk and it worked…somewhat."

"That supposedly why you can do that…freaky vapor stuff?"

"Yup. Reason I can travel place to place in my sight line, get out without getting hurt. Even why I got free guns. So that's a bonus, I guess. It sucks being half-dead." Jessie shook his head in amazement. *He really expects me to believe this.*

"I don't buy that." Reaper pulled off his mask. His face was half gone, replaced by a black substance; the other half scratched up badly, as if it was burned. McCree jumped back. *What the hell is that? No way that's natural.* "…Okay, I buy it. Don't that hurt?"

"I got used to it." He put the mask back on, anger showing slightly. "Mercy kept trying to find a way to return me to my normal self, but she couldn't, so I left forcibly. I was in that hellhole for 6 months." His anger showed for real, and Jessie understood why Sombra had said he was called Reaper now: when he lost control of his temper, his voice changed to a low growl of sheer rage. "And that's how this happened. You?"

"Meh. Nothing like that. I've been running all over the west trying to shake the police. Couldn't help myself from helping folks, so they kept finding me. So I moved here: bar doesn't care if a few bottles of cheap whiskey go missing, and the smoke store don't care if a few cigars disappear. That's about it. What happened, Reyes? Everything used to be simple. There were bad guys and threats; we neutralized them; done. There were hostages; we got them out, done. What happened to that?"

"The world changed abruptly."

"Probably started when you killed Antonio."

"Are you still upset about that?" Reyes sighed.

"Nah. Just a bad cowboy joke." Jessie chuckled lightly. "Why'd you kill my team, Reyes?"

"Orders. My head wasn't on right, and I was angry. No, not angry: so furious I was blind until it was right in front of me."

"I'll say so. I do miss them and all the people we helped."

"…I miss those days, too, but we can't go back. Remember the first rule?" McCree chuckled, then laid down, looking up at the sky.

"Adapt and Adjust. Those who get stagnant get shot. How could someone forget something so elegant?"

"Funny, cowboy."

"You got it."

"So, what do you say? You up for another run at helping people who don't want your help?" Reaper offered Jessie a hand. He smiled and took it, gun still at the ready just in case.

"Always, Yankee. 'Sides, I'm done with trying to go it alone. It gets boring really quickly." Reaper pulled him up and Jessie yanked him forward, eyes flashing. "But if you pull something like what you've been trying again, forget hunting my family: I'll hunt you. Got it?"

"Yeah. And if anyone can kill me for real, it's you." Reyes looked down, then paused. "…Are you still wearing your BAMF belt?"

"Yeah! It's cool."

"It's asinine."

"Look who's talking, Chemical Romance."

"What?"

"…Never mind. Let's head to base. I want to see Lena again."


	20. Recruitment

Junkrat and Roadhog got their stuff back, got a house-it was actually a warehouse-, and had been staying at it together for almost a year now. Junkrat had even gotten control over his pyromaniac tendencies…mostly, anyways. "Oi, Roadie?" Junkrat called as he hung upside down from the rafters, he favorite place to sleep and relax,

"What?"

"Do you know someone named Mei?"

"…No. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I met someone named that before we met. Remember Dusty?"

"Yeah, everyone remembers him."

"Well, he and I were partners at the time, and this lady showed up. Smelled really weird."

"So clean, or had perfume?"

"She called it perfume, I think. Wanted to do some research on the…climb mats?"

"Climate. It's what temperatures and weather are like in a certain area."

"She didn't seem to like me, but I helped her get to Devil's Peak, though she called it something else."

"Mount Kosciuszko?"

"Yeah, that. I took her there, telling her a couple of jokes to keep her occupied."

"Jokes about what?"

"She looked cold, and froze Dusty somehow, so I made ice jokes!"

"…Jamie…" Roadhog sighed in exasperation.

"I thought they were funny. Well, I put a bomb under her to help her climb and warm her up. She didn't seem to appreciate it."

"…Jamison…why?"

"…She was cold and I wanted to help her climb?" Junkrat repeated, not sure what was wrong with what he did.

"She thought you were trying to kill her."

"Oh…I wasn't, but that explains a lot. I think she worked for some fancy organization…yeah, she did. The same place that hired me out to Switzerland."

"…Overwatch?"

"Yeah!"

"How old were you?"

"…Um, how old am I now?"

"37."

"…I was…38…18?"

"19 years ago. Why are you mentioning her now?"

"Well, I'd dealt with Overwatch before, but none of those tossers cared enough to travel to Australia to do anything. She did. I've been thinking about it for a while. Why'd she come here?"

"It was her job."

"It was the others' jobs too, but she's the only one who ever came here."

"…I don't know who she was, but I do know you could talk to her, as long as you don't expect an answer."

"How?!"

"A letter."

"What's that?"

"It's kind of like a written form of talking with someone."

"You can talk to someone without talking out loud?!"

"…Yes."

"Show me-er, please!" Mako nodded, and set to work teaching Junkrat how to write. His spelling was atrocious, but his handwriting was almost perfect. Jamison struggled with grammar though, completely lost in all the rules. It wasn't long before he had written almost 50 letters to the woman, learned out to spell most of his favorite explosives, and learned not to chew on the writing part of the pen. After 6 months, he pulled out an almost destroyed textbook. "My friends left me this when I was 10! Now I can read it!"

"Um…I think you'd be better off trying something a little simpler first…"

"Nah, I'll be fine!" Mako shrugged, continuing to read his own book. 30 minutes later, Jamison walked up slowly. "Um, mate, I need some help."

"Okay, Jamie." Time continued to pass: Jamison memorized the entirety of the EOD textbook with Mako's help reading it the first 3 times, and continued to learn how to write and read. Mako was surprised at how quickly he picked the concept up: he was at a 10th grade level in 22 months. He still couldn't do anything related to fire without burning something down, but he was a fast and eager learner. Mako was solving a Rubix cube when Jamison suddenly appeared upside down in front of him. Roadhog was so used to this happening he didn't even react.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm solving a puzzle. You put all the squares that are the same color on one side."

"Ooo…could I try?"

"Okay." Jamison got 2 sides solved, then got extremely bored after a minute and wandered away. "…How?" Mako muttered, looking at it in amazement, then went back to trying to solve it. After 2 years of peacefully living together in the north, Jamison jumped in surprise as he heard,

"JAMISON!"

"HUH, WHAT?!" He started to fall down, but Mako caught him, setting him down. He shook his head rapidly, still slightly groggy, then saw the purple woman from almost 6 years ago. "Oh, the purple Sheila."

"I need to talk to you."

"Se wants to talk to us about Overwatch. She came without a gun."

"Really?" Jamison looked her over, then nodded: there was nothing on her but her skin suit. "Yup. No weapons. Either you're a moron, or you're legit. So, what do you what?"

"To ask you join Overwatch." Jamison laughed and then paused as Amelie didn't join in.

"Oh, man. You're for real."

"Oui, I am." Jamison frowned.

"Oui means yes." *Okay.*

"…Right. Listen. Overwatch doesn't pay. We do paying jobs, not pro bono…I used that right, right?"

"Yes."

"So, nah."

"Jamison. The world is changing more and more violently. The Omnics-" He scowled.

"You're working for robots? Get out."

"No, I'm not. We are working towards peace for all." Widow tried to explain.

"Again, peace means no jobs, which means no money." He repeated.

"I…ugh…Jamison. My kids were kidnapped by humans and I was attempted to be manipulated that way." That got through to him and the two soot-covered men looked at each other. *They involved kids. Why do people always involve kids?* They both nodded in agreement.

"…All right. Here's the deal: we don't get involved in your dumb peace talk and stuff. We don't want that junk. Fights n' kids are fine, but not idiotic stuff like that."

"…Looks like we both have soft spots for kids." Junkrat blushed.

"No, I ain't, Roadie. I don't have a soft spot for anything!"

"Where are we going, Jamie?" Junkrat shrugged.

"I don't know. Oi, Sheila! Where are we going, anyways?"

"Colorado."

"Right." They had packed surprisingly quickly and practically dragged the woman out of the building. The three walked to a jeep she had brought.

"It's a somewhat long ride." Jamison grinned: the last time he had ridden in a jeep the engine blew.

"Get comfortable, Roadie! WOO-HOO!" Junkrat eventually fell asleep on the ride back to the base. He slowly opened his eyes and noticed that she was watching him. He sat up, and asked, "What?"

"It was very difficult to find you. The last explosion I was able to link to you was 2 years ago. The rest was rumors. Why haven't you blown anything up? That's kind of your thing." Junkrat thought carefully. *Why did we stop, anyways?*

"We got tired of always getting chased around everywhere, so we 'settled'. Never really got involved or anything, but we just kind of stopped, I guess."

"I understand. I did as well."

"Yeah…Oi, is this Blackwatch or Overwatch?"

"There is no Blackwatch. Everything we do is illegal. What's the point?" Junkrat pinched up his face, thinking.

"I don't know what that means, but okay."

"…Hmm." They arrived at a pier where a boat was docked.

"Oi, ain't-isn't-this familiar?!"

"Yes, only this time there's not a crazy woman and an armada following us."

"True…"


End file.
